The Benefits
by jaded79
Summary: Daryl and Carol... friendship, maybe more... This will probably be a little short and fluffy and I don't really know where I'm going with it so I plan to just have some fun.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – So this is just an idea I have… I don't know really how far I'm going to go with it, but I figure I'll see where I end up. I rated it T for now although I'm still so confused with ratings. If you can explain it to me, please do. If I decide to get more graphic with the sex stuff, I'll probably up it to an M rating. Are occasional swears (F word) allowed in T ratings? I'm not sure, so turn back now if you don't want to read them. **

**For the purposes of this story, this takes place sometime after '18 Miles Out'. Rick and Shane were successful in their mission to just leave Randall somewhere. Maybe they still fought, maybe they didn't. Maybe Randall died, maybe he didn't. We don't know. What we do know is the two of them came back without Randall, Dale is still alive, and so is Shane. **

**Disclaimers – I don't own The Walking Dead or its characters. I may create some characters of my own, but I might not. **

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Alcohol was a dangerous thing. Carol had never been much of a drinker. But when T-Dog had come back to the farm from a run with a case of beer and three bottles of bourbon… well everyone sat around the campfire to drink and have a good time. It was a sight. T-Dog and Andrea shared a log, leaning on each other, laughing and doing shots of the bourbon. Lori and Rick were even drinking, holding hands as they watched Carl – who obviously was not allowed to sample the libations – roasted marshmallows.

Even Hershel and Patricia had come out from the farmhouse to join the others. Hershel wasn't drinking though, merely taking it all in. Carol thought it was sweet the way Patricia leaned her head on his shoulder. Glenn and Maggie were drinking beers, heads bent together like young lovers. Beth and Jimmy were even allowed a beer each, and they were slow-dancing together in the moonlight – despite the lack of music.

Shane had taken a whole bottle of bourbon to himself. He was trying to join in with the others, but he still seemed awkward. Andrea tried to include him as much as she could, but he seemed to be even keeping her at arm's length these days. Carol felt bad for him a little. She didn't know what went on between him and Rick that day they'd driven Randall away and left the boy to fend for himself eighteen miles out of town, but Shane hadn't been quite the same since. Carol remembered how nice he'd been to her the day Sophia was buried, helping clean her up after she'd annihilated a whole bush of Cherokee Roses.

Carol sat next to Dale. The older man was nursing a beer and it seemed like he had been for the last hour. He clearly wasn't much of a drinker. She knew the feeling... the shot of bourbon had burned on its way down and she'd struggled to keep it there. She was light-headed almost instantly, but still took the beer that Rick offered.

She glanced over at Daryl, leaning against a tree not far from the campfire. He's always on the outskirts, never allowing himself entirely into the circle of the group. He seemed to be ignoring them all, staring distantly into the flames, but she'd be willing to bet that he was the most observant of all of them and that if someone had asked; he could describe the whole scene with his eyes closed.

They all stayed like that for a few hours… enjoying the respite from the terrible world in which they lived. And then slowly, they all began to amble off to their separate corners of the farm. T-Dog and Andrea went off first, which was probably best because the two of them were eyeing each other something fierce. 'Fuck me' eyes, Carol thought. She was definitely feeling light-headed. She stayed on her log watching the blaze flicker while the others dispersed.

She didn't notice that everyone else had gone until Daryl sat down next to her. "Ya sleepin' out 'ere tonight?," he asked in his low, rough growl.

She peered sideways at him. "I'm waiting for the world to stop spinning." And then she laughed because the thought of that was ridiculous, hilarious, and didn't sound at all how she'd meant it.

Daryl looked at the woman laughing beside him. He took a draw from his beer and chuckled inwardly. "Yer drunk."

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious," Carol said. She put her empty beer bottle down and stretched her hands above her head, making her body long and lean, and then nearly lost her balance. She would have crashed back onto the ground behind her if not for Daryl moving to stabilize her with one hand on the back of her neck, his fingers brushing into her close-cropped hair, his other hand gripping her by the arm.

Carol really saw Daryl right then… maybe for the first time. He was leaning over her, keeping her steady, the backlight of the flames against his back. This man was sexy, dirty and a bit rough. He smelled good, like woods and water and dirt.

"Ya a'right?," his voice was gruff. She nodded, and he removed his hands, pulling back, sitting back down. She watched him put the bottle to his lips and tip his head back.

"We should have sex." Daryl choked on the beer, coughed, hacked, and Carol patted him on the back.

"We should wha' now?," he said when his breathing was under control. Her hand was still on his back, lingering there. His eyes were narrowed at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You heard me. You might be socially adverse, Daryl Dixon, but you certainly aren't deaf."

"Why in the world should we have sex?," he looked away from her, into the rapidly dying fire.

Carol shrugged, "Why not? It's the end of the world. What else do we have to do? Everyone else is doing it. Why not us?"

"Yer drunk."

Carol sighed, "we've already established that. My being drunk doesn't matter."

"S-ure it do," Daryl drawled softly, "Ya ain't thinkin' straight."

"How exactly does one think _straight_?"

"Wha'?"

"Think straight. As if we could think zig-zagged or something. It's a stupid phrase. And besides, my thinking is just fine. And I think we should have sex."

"Bad idea."

"It is not. It's a great idea. It doesn't have to be a big thing. I have needs. Hell, I haven't had a vibrator for months. I'm on edge, Daryl Dixon. I'm a woman on the edge." She paused and when he said nothing, she said softly, "You must have needs too."

Daryl looked at her. "What 'xactly is ya proposin'?" Carol glanced away, and then looked back at him a sly look in her eye, her lower lip popped out just a little as she bit the corner of her mouth. Daryl didn't know if the woman knew she was sexy when she did it, or if it was just another one of those unconscious things she did to drive him fucking crazy.

"I'm proposing that we have sex. I thought I made that part clear already? Just sex. Me and you. I'm just proposing one night of pure, hot, passionate… animalistic… sex. Where we don't think about what we've lost, or each other's feelings… where we just don't think. I'm so damn tired of thinking. Just sex. Between friends. We're friends, right? Kind of? Maybe?" Daryl grunted. Carol rolled her eyes again, and spun quickly, so fast that before Daryl could jump she was crouched on the ground in front of him, her body wedged in front of the fire and between his bent legs.

"Come on, Daryl. I'm not asking you to make love to me. I'm not asking for anything but what I'm asking for… one night. Hot, crazy, ridiculously naked sex. I'm just asking you to fuck me. Just for tonight." Her mouth was pouting at him again, and those blue eyes were sparkling at him, and Daryl knew this was a bad, fucking idea.

"Jus' sex… no feelin's," he echoed at her.

She whispered, her voice low and thick, "Just sex, Daryl. No feelings."

His hand grasped her arm and pulled her body into his. Their faces were so close, their eyes locked together. "Ya bett'r mean it…," his voice was so low, the words nearly nonexistent, but she still heard him.

"Just kiss me, Daryl. This isn't the time for talking." So he did as she asked, brought his face forward into hers, their lips connected and he felt pleasure ripple through his body. She opened her mouth slightly in response, slid her tongue into his mouth to greet his own, and then there was no going back.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – As promised, here's what happened next… :) Please read and review! **

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How could a man who acted so rough have lips this sweet? His mouth was relentless on hers, but she had no complaints. It was everything she'd imagined it would be, and so much more. His upper lip and chin were scruffy and the short bristle there tickled her. He slowed down his kisses, their lips met, and parted, and met again, his tongue there and then pulling away. It was slow, but fervent, and she could feel the warmth spreading out in waves from her belly, the heat of her desire pooling between her legs.

Carol leaned harder into Daryl… and then they were tipping back, Daryl taking the brunt of the collision as he slammed backwards onto the dirt. Suddenly he was very aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the camp, in a field where anyone could see them, sitting around a still – barely – flickering campfire. Carol didn't seem concerned, her lips were still searching; she was tracing kisses down the side of his neck, her tongue and her teeth nibbling and licking. He weighed his options. They couldn't do this here. Anyone could see them… anyone, any_ thing_ could stumble across them. He couldn't remember if someone was on watch right now or not.

Carol was grinding against him. When they'd hit the hard dirt, she had straddled him, her mouth still voracious and hot, and she was grinding, writhing against him. He was so hard he didn't know if he could even move to take her somewhere else… his tent was so far away. He cursed himself for never moving it closer. Unbidden, his hand had roamed underneath her shirt and swept across softness at her hip, across her tight stomach, over the skin taut across her ribs, until suddenly he was grasping a soft, round mound of flesh that made his breath catch in his throat. "Carol…" His voice was husky and hoarse. He wanted this woman so badly… but here? In the middle of camp, on the cold hard-packed earth? Did she really want to do this here?

He squeezed the soft mound beneath her shirt. His thumb and forefinger sought and found her hard tight nipple, and he rolled it. Carol whimpered. His touch was amazing. His hands were rough, but smooth, and as she ground her still-clothed hips against him, he bucked up against her, the full expanse of his hardened manhood beneath his clothes burrowing against her.

"Tent." He said it so quietly she wasn't even sure she'd heard it. She pulled back to look down at him, noticed for the first time that he was lying awkwardly back on the ground, his legs still up over the log they had just before been sitting on.

"Tent," she repeated.

She pulled herself off of him. He stood, brushed himself off and their eyes caught. She had this half-smile on her face as she looked at him, and the moonlight on her face was just so captivating he couldn't look away. "S-crew it," he muttered and reached for her, their bodies colliding, their lips meshing together once again. He moved forward as they kissed and she backed up until he had her pinned against the rough bark of a nearby tree.

Carol let the tree take all her weight, ignoring the roughness at her back, and concentrated on Daryl's hard, lean body at her front. He was slithering his way down her neck in a flurry of tongue and teeth. She moaned, slid her hand down the front of his pants… Daryl Dixon doesn't wear underwear, she realized. His erection was straining against his pants, and she moved her hand around it, to grasp it – it was hard as marble – to roll the silken skin between her palm. Daryl groaned, it was low, a guttural sound of need. Somehow her pants were sliding down her ass. When did he undo her pants?

His mouth was on hers again, the feel of his velvet tongue. He pulled back and she sucked on his bottom lip, nipping at it before she released. She fumbled with his zipper, freeing his cock from its confines. It was warm in her hands; she moved her thumb roughly across the hole at the tip… it jerked in her hand as Daryl's hand on her breast tightened. His body was so still she wasn't even sure he was breathing. "Fuck," he grunted as she moved her thumb back again, and then he was kissing her, and her thigh was sliding up the outside of his leg as he moved her body up the tree. She tilted her hips, granting him access, and then her body went rigid with pleasure as he slid himself inside her, deep, plunging himself into her core.

She was so tight around him, he was close to release already, but he held himself back, slowed himself down. She rolled her hips slightly and a chill went through his whole body, he spasmed slightly, but forced himself to thrust slower. He pulled himself back, pulling half of his dick out, the cold night air around the bottom of his shaft a contrast to the warm slickness of her around the rest of it, her body was suckling him, pulling him in. "Please…," she whimpered, "Please, Daryl…please, don't stop." Her voice was low and seductive. She arched her back as he thrust back in, giving him a deeper dish to drink from, the core of her sucking him in, squeezing around him as he pushed into her, pounded faster, harder, keeping her steady against the tree as she answered in kind, writhing in rhythm against him, rising to meet him with each thrust.

She tilted her head back to bare her throat, and he kissed the hollow of her neck, his release building. And then her muscles were contracting, her body trembled, and she spasmed, wet and hot around him as she climaxed, and he muttered a stream of curse words into her neck – "Fuck, shit, damn, FUCK… fuck, Carol" – as he reached the peak and he could feel his dick growing, getting harder, and then jerking with release inside of her, spurting, the muscles of his legs weakening from the pleasure, but she kept her pace rocking against him, letting her insides stroke every last little bit of his gratification from him until they were both weak with it, dizzy with the satisfaction of a need finally fulfilled. Daryl looked at Carol, they both were glistening with sweat, and he kissed her hard on the lips, his mouth claiming her as his own.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – The morning after… Hope you like. Keep in mind that (IMO) Daryl is a man of few words. I wrote this pretty much with Carol's perspective in mind, but we'll get some thoughts out of Daryl soon. **

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Carol groaned. Her mouth was dry, and all she could smell was dirt. _Because you faceplanted yourself, dumbass. _It was her own thought, but somehow it didn't quite fit her normal way of thinking. It was a struggle to pull her head up; her tongue was dry and yet somehow sort of tasted muddy. She was lying half in and half out of Daryl's tent, her body submerged within the tent and kind of haphazardly covered with a blanket, and her face and left arm and shoulder poking outside like she was being given birth to out of a green, bulbous, polyester-lined egg… or vagina… she wasn't really sure what to compare herself to at this point. "Oh geez," she groaned again, and struggled to pull herself back in the tent.

She was naked. And alone. In Daryl's tent. With only a dim recollection of how she'd gotten there. "What the hell did I do-o?," she muttered to herself. "Did I say one time or one night? Because that was definitely not one time. That was more like four times. Five… maybe? That might not have even been all in just one night, because that last time… that was definitely morning, which is, I gotta say, the total opposite of night." She was mumbling to herself, her voice a whisper, but squeaky and rising to a higher pitch with each word.

"Are ya talkin' to yerself?" Carol jumped at the sound of Daryl's voice as he poked his head inside the tent. Daryl laughed inwardly at the look on her face but kept his own expression stoic. She raised the blanket up to her neck in an effort to cover herself. He raised an eyebrow, "Not like I ain't already seen it." He held out a coffee mug to her.

She sighed. "It doesn't matter that you've already seen it. You're not seeing it now."

This time, Daryl chuckled. "Woman, all I got-ta do is shut my eyes and tha's all I's gonn' see."

Carol glared. Daryl grinned. "I said one night, Daryl Dixon. And I meant it. One night!," she hissed the last two words at him. She gathered the blanket around her body, and stormed – if a naked woman clothed in a blanket can even storm – out of the tent. He watched through the flap as she started toward the RV, then thought better of the fact that everyone was already out and about in that area, and ducked around the other side of his tent.

Daryl shook his head and gathered her clothes together. He stepped out of the tent with the bundle of clothes and went around the back side of the tent where she was huddled, probably trying to figure out her next move. "Here." He offered her the clothes. She took them and stared at him a moment.

"Thank you, Daryl." Their eyes locked for a moment too long, and then she gave him a look, her eyes widening, "Well?"

"Well wha'?"

"Are you going to leave so I can change?" Her expression was one of exasperation, eyes wide, lower lip dropped slightly. His gaze paused on that lower lip.

"Ah-yea. Wha'ever. Got's things to do anyway." Daryl turned away from her and strode confidently down toward the RV. No walk of shame for him.

Carol, on the other hand, struggled to get her clothes on. Her head still reeling slightly, her stomach twisted in knots. Last night was coming back to her in bits and pieces. The feel of Daryl's hand buried between her thighs, the way she'd moaned his name, the way he'd suckled at her breast... "Stop it. One time… er… night. Whatever," she muttered to herself.

Lori was seated at the campfire, stirring something in a pot. She looked up as Carol approached. "Hey, where've you been? I was looking for you when I started breakfast."

"I… I… got up early, decided to take a walk." Carol shrugged and tried to smile contritely. Lori nodded and smiled.

Dale stood just a few feet away from Lori, watching the exchange. He took a few steps toward Carol, and as he passed by her, he whispered conspiratorially, "uh… Carol, you know, your shirt's inside out." Carol blushed a bright crimson, but Dale continued moving along as if the moment had never happened.

Carol ducked inside the RV, grateful to finally be alone. She leaned back against the small table, and put her head in her hands. She blew out a deep breath. She felt like her stomach was on fire, and her head was going to explode.

"Brung ya somethin' for tha'."

Carol startled, physically – her whole body jumped at the sound of his voice. She looked wide-eyed at him, clutched her hand to her chest and said – probably too loudly, "where did you come from? Can't a woman get a moment alone?"

Daryl just looked at her, proffered his hand that held two items in it – an aspirin and an antacid.

Carol sighed. "I'm sorry, Daryl." She swallowed the aspirin and the antacid. She repeated herself again as he turned to walk away. "I'm sorry, Daryl. I don't know what I was thinking last night. I should never have put you in that situation."

He shrugged, "S'ok." He went to turn away again, but she put her hand up and touched his forearm. His eyes met hers.

"No, really," she smiled, "It was fun though. So… you know, thank you… for… that. I had a very nice… uh… time."

Daryl cracked a half-smile. "Ye-ah," he drawled out slowly.

She dropped her hand off his arm but kept it extended to him. "Friends?," she asked.

Daryl nodded his agreement and took the offered hand in his own. They stood there shaking hands, still staring into each other's eyes, letting the touch linger a moment longer than it should have; and then Daryl dropped her hand like it was on fire and bolted out of the RV, leaving Carol finally, and somewhat disappointedly, alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Sorry it took so long to get an update on this. I'm trying to stay true to the characters in this… both second guessing themselves and each other, but there will be a breaking point for Daryl or Carol where they won't be able to second guess their feelings and they'll have to come clean. I'm thinking maybe 5 to 7 chapters to get where I'm going with this, but we'll see. I hate having a plan because I inevitably lose track of it. LOL. **

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Daryl stepped out of the woods to where Rick, T-Dog, Shane, and Glenn were all standing in a semi-circle. "Ya ladies havin' a party or somethin'?," Daryl muttered. No one responded. "Wha' the fuck's so damn int'restin'? Daryl stepped over to stand beside Glenn, to see what had caught the men's attention. The men were staring out towards the campsite where the women were all gathered.

"Glenn did a run into town today… picked up a few things to keep our women entertained," Rick explained. Lori, Maggie, Carol, and Beth were rummaging through some bags, and there was music playing in the background.

"Yer dumbass brought back a fuckin' radio? Wha' are ya, fuckin stupid? Might as well 'ave put out a big fuckin' sign says 'Eat Me' or some shit like tha'," Daryl muttered. Glenn looked back but seemed unperturbed despite Daryl's tone.

"Now will you look at that…," Shane said, bringing Daryl's attention back to the campsite. The women were dancing. Daryl watched Carol take Maggie's hands in her own and dance playfully with the younger woman. Carol's hips swayed back and forth the music, and she twirled Maggie around.

Daryl's gaze focused in on those hips, on Carol's back, on her face flushed with delight, on the way her bosom shook slightly as she moved. Suddenly, Daryl was very aware that these other men were watching the women just as closely… that their gaze might linger too long over Carol like his had. Surely not Rick… the man only had eyes for his wife. And not Glenn, who was clearly head over heels for Maggie.

But Shane and T-Dog… the two were unfettered and could watch whomever they chose to watch. The women were laughing now and dancing happily as Lori spun Carol and Carol's laughter filtered up towards Daryl catching in his ears. The women were seemingly unaware of their audience. Daryl glared at Shane and T-Dog and tried to determine who they were focusing on.

Shane clapped Glenn on the back with a smile and said, "This might've been the smartest thing you've ever done, kid. Who knew we had such hotties in our midst." Rick cleared his throat and Shane glanced over at him under Daryl's watchful eye. Shane had the presence of mind to look slightly sheepish as he met Rick's gaze… "sorry man, but you know your wife's a looker."

Daryl could feel the mood shift as Rick tensed. There was something going on between those two. Between Shane and Rick, something that had to do with Lori.

Shane glanced away from Rick and back out towards the women. "I mean come on, Maggie and Beth… farmer's daughters and all," Shane laughed pushing Glenn playfully as the younger man frowned but didn't respond. Shane's voice dipped low, "That Carol's quite a sight too, ya know… shaking her ass like that and all."

"Shut yer fuckin' trap," Daryl growled out without even thinking. Now all the attention was on him as all four men turned in shock. _Wha' the fuck's wrong with me? _

"Gee, sorry man… you tapping that already?," Shane said sardonically, and then he guffawed, "yea, right. You wish, I'm sure."

Daryl stiffened, and moved forward as Rick pulled him back by the shoulder. "Ain't none-a-yer fuckin' bus'ness wha' the fuck I do… ya keep yer sorry ass away from Carol, ya know wha's good for ya," Daryl said, his voice harsh and probably too loud for the circumstance.

Shane backed up, sarcastic smile crossing his face, hands up in some kind of fake surrender. "Free country, man." Then Shane winked and turned away, heading down toward the campsite.

Daryl ripped his arm out of Rick's grasp, and huffed. "I'ma kill tha' motherfucker."

Glenn and T-Dog seemed to be in shock at the scene that had just played out, and all Rick could say was, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Daryl glared, and headed briskly over to the campsite. The dancing had stopped on Shane's approach. Now Shane was talking to Carol, his head bent down, and his fingers draped on her forearm, as if he had touched her to stop her from turning away. Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly his hands were doing the talking as he slugged Shane right in the side of the head. Daryl knocked the man physically away from Carol, whose eyes were wide with shock and horror.

Daryl pursued, tackling Shane to the ground, and then there was a flurry of fists, as Daryl punched Shane hard in the face, and Shane flailed, grappled for a chance to hit back, swung hard, and connected with the side of Daryl's face. But Daryl was a pit bull, relentless in his pursuit, swinging again, and Shane cried out as he connected. Hands were dragging Daryl up off of the ground, off of Shane, but Daryl shook free, ran forward, and slammed his boot hard into Shane's side. Shane cried out as Daryl kicked again. Then the hands around Daryl were fierce, pulling him back, holding him there.

"Fuckin' git off me," Daryl burst out. T-Dog had pulled Shane up off the ground was holding him back too now. The men glared at each other.

Rick was in Daryl's ear now, "Let it go, Daryl. Not here. And not now."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick, yanked his body away from Rick and Glenn who were holding him back, and stalked off angrily toward the woods, and toward his tent. He noticed Carol as he turned away, one hand clutched at her chest, the other to her mouth. Her eyes were wide with shock and locked right on him.

As he hurried away from the group, he could hear footsteps behind him. He knew it was her without looking back, but he quickened his pace anyway. Suddenly he was unsure what he was doing, what he would say if she asked him what that was. He hurled himself angrily inside his tent, knowing she'd be there in a moment… knowing he only had a few seconds to collect his thoughts and figure out what the fuck he'd been thinking throwing down with Shane over… over… over what? _Over Carol, that's wha'. _


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – So I originally thought there might be more talk here inside Daryl's little tent… but apparently, not so much. Apparently Carol and Daryl communicate better through action. It seems to be the only time they ever both let their guard down. **

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Carol lingered a moment outside of his tent… suddenly unsure on what exactly she was intending to do here. She sighed to herself, and pushed open the flaps to go inside. Daryl was curled up on the far side of the tent. One eye was already swelling and he was oozing blood from a cut on his cheek. She tried to look nonthreatening.

He looked at her; his expression guarded, and said nothing. Carol exhaled. "Are you okay?," she asked softly.

"Seen worse," Daryl muttered. He didn't make any effort to move, so Carol came closer kneeled down in front of him. She kept her eyes averted and focused on the cut on his cheek. Carol lifted a clean rag from the bag she always carried with her and held it gently to the wound. Daryl cringed at the contact, and hissed slightly at the sting of cloth on open sore. Carol let her eyes dart to meet his, and they stayed like that a moment, silence surrounding them, gazing into each other's eyes.

"What was that… back there?," Carol said quietly.

Daryl shrugged and Carol turned her head away again, went into her bag for the antiseptic. He watched as she dripped antiseptic on the cloth and put it back to his face. She worked methodically, gently cleaning his wound. She didn't let herself look at him.

"It's not too deep… should heal up just fine," she murmured, probably more to herself than to him. He felt the coolness as she swiped some kind of antibiotic cream across his cheek. She pulled herself back and away from him and he reached forward.

Daryl yearned to make a connection and his hand touched her wrist. With the contact, her eyes met his again.

"Ya… ya didn't hafta come up 'ere…"

Carol half-smiled. "I wanted to. I wanted to see if you were okay." She waited. She wanted to say more, but it wouldn't come. She wanted him to say more, but she felt sure he wouldn't.

"Why's-'at matter?," he said, "if I'm okay?"

Carol shrugged. "It just does, I guess. I mean, we're friends. A friend can check on another friend, can't…," her words were cut short by his lips mashing into hers. His hand gripped the nape of her neck and pulled her to him. A heady warmth spread throughout her belly at the touch of his lips against hers. It was almost automatic the way she opened her mouth to give him access. It was almost natural the way his tongue drifted across the threshold and mingled with her tongue.

It was the way her eyes drew him in that made Daryl kiss her. The way she could look at him so innocently, her eyes blue as the ocean and all doe-eyed and sweet as she talked to him. Like she trusted him. Carol looked at Daryl like she trusted him, and Daryl didn't know if anyone had ever looked at him like that before. So when she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes burning their way into his, he almost didn't even hear the words. Friends, she talked about friends, and then he had to kiss her. Like something pulled them together… some gravitational force shit that made it impossible for him not to kiss her, not to touch her.

Carol thought she should pull away. She should break the kiss, end whatever this was, but for some reason her body wasn't listening to her brain. It did the opposite. She told herself to use her hand on his chest to push him away, but somehow instead her hand came to clench his shirt, grasping him, pulling him closer to her. She told herself to turn her head away, to end the kiss. But somehow, instead, she turned her head only to kiss down the curve of his chin, using her mouth to leave a trail of tongue and teeth all the way down his neck. She told herself to say something… we can't… or this isn't a good idea… but instead her voice came out as a low guttural moan, and she whispered "more" as his rough hands moved across her back, one of them flitting beneath her shirt, across and up her side, and groping at her breast, squeezing tenderly, and then his fingers were rolling the hard nub at the tip. Tenderly at first, and then harder as she could feel her desire for him building up in intensity.

Daryl's erection strained against his pants. He knew it was broad daylight outside; that surely he could be doing something more productive for the group, but all he could focus on was the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, the feel of her body arching as he rolled her nipple, the way her lips responded to his mouth, the way her teeth nibbled down his neck, her tongue softly sliding across his Adam's apple. Her hands were at his belt buckle, and he forced himself to pull away slightly as she undid the clasp, released the button, and slid his zipper down. "Ya sure bout this?," he said softly, his voice hoarse with desire.

Her response to his question was to slide her hand down into his pants. He jumped, bucked slightly as her hand curled around his shaft. She relished the heat of it, the hardness of it, and the satiny feel of taut skin. "I'm sure…," she whispered, moving her way down his body as he leaned back. She had pulled his erection free from his pants, and she cradled the end of it in one hand as she brought her mouth to the tip. She paused, breathing hard, letting her eyes move up to meet his, and then she took him in her mouth.

He groaned, "God, Carol..."

She kept their eyes locked together and she moved her mouth down over him, swirling her tongue around his hardness. She could feel him growing harder, longer, thicker, and the moans her actions elicited made her only want to please him more. She knew she was slick with want for him already, and she felt an emptiness between her legs that only he could fill.

Daryl's release was building. He could feel it. There was something insane about her hot mouth on him, the way she could take him all in, and the soft noises she made while she did it. Like she liked it. Like she knew what she was doing and she wanted to do it. He looked at her… _She's so beautiful._ He needed more, he needed more of her.

Carol felt what he desired before he could speak. She saw it in his eyes, perhaps. She pulled herself up so their bodies were aligned, and her lips found his again. She felt his calloused fingers pushing her pants down over her ass, panties with them, and she helped, removing the offending garments. She needed more of him. She needed him inside of her.

She hovered her body above his, her knees on the hard dirt, straddling him, but before she could drop down, Daryl slid a hand around her thigh, ran his fingers across her slickness. He found her clit and she cried out with pleasure as he flicked his fingertip across it, grazing it at first, and then again. He pushed its hood aside and slid his finger around it in concentric circles. Carol was rigid, her head tilted back, moaning. He reached for her with his mouth, and hit on the only part of her he could reach – her torso – he used his free hand to slide her shirt up so he could kiss her soft skin.

Carol was building to climax, she could feel it as his finger moved against her clit, concentrically, and then as he switched direction with the movement, she arched her back again, and cried out, "Fuck, Daryl…"

Daryl knew she was moving closer to release… he didn't fight her as her body sank down, her legs widening. He hissed with an intense pleasure as the tip of him dipped inside of her. She sank down, angling her hips, her walls opening around him to make room, to take him deep inside. They rocked together, his hips moving to thrust himself up as her muscles clenched around him. Her fingers laced through his hair and her mouth was hard on his, her tongue darting inside his mouth, her teeth grating gently against his lower lip… and then she was bucking wild against him as she came, the walls of her core clenching and releasing recklessly, and then he was lost in his own climax… the pleasure of their encounter too intense to do anything but savor it as they held each other and moved rhythmically over the edge.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – A new chapter! So I didn't forget about The Benefits, but I kind of got caught up in all my other fics and let this one fall to the wayside. I'm sorry about that. I'm not sure how long this story will go on to be – I'd thought 5 or 7 chapters but it may end up being a bit longer. Anyway, after so much time, here – finally – is a brand new chapter! I hope you like. :) Please read and review! **

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Chapter 6

Carol hovered around outside on the side porch to Hershel's home. She was standing behind one of the wood corner poles at the end of the porch entrance, peering around the side of the thick white square wood pole and waiting for Daryl to leave his tent to head off into the woods.

She needed his laundry to add to her pile but she was avoiding him, and she couldn't very well go ask for his laundry when she was avoiding him.

The plan was that she'd wait until he'd gone, and simply go grab his laundry then. It required her to rifle through his things which she knew he hated, but he'd seen her naked - on more than one separate occasion at this point - and she figured that entitled her to something. It seemed a trade off that was more in his favor than hers… he saw her naked and gets his laundry done, all she gets is the laundry… okay, maybe that wasn't all she got.

He would be pissed, but he probably, maybe, might not say anything...

It was awkward. She hated this game of avoidance she was playing. She hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't done anything wrong. They were adults. They were consenting, single adults. They were... she had no idea what they were... friends... with benefits?

The thought was enticing, yet revolting at the same time. Not revolting in a gross way - sex with Daryl had been amazing, mind-blowing, about as far from gross as it got - but revolting in a mortifying way. Carol Peletier... mousy, innocent, been with one man - two now she supposed - her whole life was thinking about maintaining a sexual relationship with a man who was her complete opposite in every way. What could, what would Daryl possibly see in her?

It didn't help that she'd avoided him studiously for the last three days - avoided him like the plague, like it was her job. It had been three days since their tryst inside his tent after he'd gone to blows with Shane… for what she had no idea. And ever since all she could think about was potato chips.

_Once you pop, you just can't stop..._

It was an old advertisement... a catchphrase that gets stuck in a person's head at the worst possible time, gets stuck there and just won't leave. Lays, maybe? Pringles? She couldn't quite remember. It felt like forever since she'd heard an advertisement on the radio or on the television. She could hardly remember what television was like at this point.

_Betcha can't have just one..._

That was another one from the same era.

Daryl Dixon was like potato chip. Once she popped, she just couldn't stop.

They'd been together twice... although that first time was really a whole marathon event and she wasn't sure if she could only count it as once. And the second time... she hadn't been drunk that time. She could remember everything about being with him in his tent... in the middle of the day... the feel of his calloused palm running up the inside of her bare thigh. His lips seeking hers, tasting the salt on his skin as she licked his neck.

She remembered everything... playing each moment of it in her head like a movie. Like a movie! This isn't a movie!

This is real life... in the midst of the end of the world or at least something akin to it. Friends? Friends with benefits? What does that even mean? Carol didn't know the first thing about friends with benefits. Hell, she hardly knew the first thing about being friends all things considered.

And benefits – what did Carol know about benefits? Ed had been her only lover. At least before. Of course, it had never been with Ed what it was like with Daryl. Orgasms with Ed were a fleeting thought and completely linked to how hard she herself wanted to work during sex. Ed surely wasn't going to expend any extra effort to make sure he pleasured his wife. With Daryl it was like a look could make her insides spasm with delight. Just the thought of Daryl was delicious, the memory of the feel of his skin slick against hers.

The way his eyes narrowed at her after he kissed her, his gaze drinking her in, his tongue sliding across his lower lip in such a way that she'd felt her stomach clench. She could remember _everything._

And what was she supposed to do about it now?

She couldn't keep avoiding him. He was Daryl, and if she was avoiding him now it was probably entirely with his knowledge, and because he was letting her avoid him. Plus it was a small farm, too many people, not a lot of room to hide when walkers could come from anywhere, at any moment – she didn't have the luxury of continuing to avoid him.

They needed to talk. She knew it, but she wasn't ready. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea what she really wanted.

_Him. _She wanted him. She knew that. But as what? They weren't going to date. People didn't date anymore, not with the way the world was now. They were total opposites… strangers that had really only become close after Sophia was gone, and only because of Daryl's singular goal of finding her little girl. If not for that, would they have ever become friends? Become what they were now? What are they now?

This was all so confusing. She hadn't dated in years and years and years… and even then her experience was limited. She hadn't been allowed to date, and then there was Ed, and then she hadn't been allowed anything – friends, male or female didn't matter, even family had been exorcised by Ed's control, by Ed's rules. She'd had Sophia and Ed and that was all. She was sheltered, and then the world had come to a screeching halt and she had adapted. She'd made friends with Andrea, with Jacqui, with Dale; developed a fondness, a closeness with Daryl… she'd built a life for herself here in this place, with these people, a life that even managed to survive the living hell that was losing Sophia.

Would starting something with Daryl threaten the life that she'd built? Hadn't she already started something with Daryl? Stupid, ridiculous alcohol. Muffled down all her inhibitions, all her fear, replaced it with courage and…

_I wasn't drunk three days ago. _

She knew that. The tent had been all… all heat and sexiness. He had kissed her and she had responded. She had needed him. Craved his touch, his tongue, his arms…

Why had he even kissed her? This whole thing was foreign to her. She'd never drawn attention from men her whole life. She hadn't minded – she mostly liked it that way, especially after she'd married Ed. Attention from anyone when she'd been with Ed could garner her a beating. So why had Daryl even kissed her?

Did he like her? Like her! She felt like a teenager. Guessing games in high school over whether the hottest guy in the school liked her. This wasn't her life. This had never been Carol's life.

The hottest guy… the thought made her smile. If Hershel's farm could be compared to high school, Daryl was the hottest guy in the school.

Movement from Daryl's tent caught her eye and she watched him step out into the open. Her breath caught as he stood, his back to her, his arms bare and all smooth, hard muscle, as he hefted his crossbow. He stood there, the sun backlit on him, staring out into the woods where he would soon disappear to. Then he turned, his head turning to look over at the house and she froze.

His eyes scanned the area for whatever he was looking for and then they stopped on her, too far away for her to really know what he was looking at, but the sudden heat in her belly made her certain their eyes were meeting somehow across the vast distance that lay between them. His face was expressionless. He gave a nod, a slight tilt of his head toward his tent – permission for her to go in after he was gone – and then he spun, moving gracefully into the woods and disappearing from sight.

She smiled… the time for avoidance was over. She'd seek him out later and they'd talk. Figure out what was going on… and what they could do about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N – Next chapter…. SMUT. Be prepared. :) Fluffy smut. But first, this chapter… hope you like! **

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Chapter 7

The game had gone on long enough as far as he concerned. Three days of no Carol had left him missing her... a fact that surprised him. He cared for Carol; he had for a while now. He wasn't sure when it had started or why it had started... maybe it was that night on the highway in the RV, when she was sobbing for Sophia. Maybe it was even before that… when she'd taken the pickaxe from him and drove it through her husband's skull with an intensity he'd never seen.

At any rate, he grew to care for her... she was one of their group, one of his people, and he grew to think of her as family. It was strange to him. He was so used to his own dysfunctional family that dealing with these people had been so odd at first. It took an adjustment but he was slowly feeling better about it, about them... comfortable. He respected Rick; Shane considerably less so. He didn't like Lori much, but she was really the only one he found it difficult to be around.

He was most comfortable with Carol though, or at least he had been before... before they'd had sex. Not that he was uncomfortable now, but he knew she was.

She had said they were friends. Friendship was a foreign concept for Daryl. He hadn't had any memorable friends growing up. He'd never been friends with a woman before. He'd fucked women... but in a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of way.

A one night screw should have been easy for him... par for the course. But somehow it wasn't. He suspected it had gone wrong the moment it had been Carol. If he'd had sex with someone else – not that there were a lot of options, not that he was interested in any other options – if it had been anyone else, it could have been easy.

But with Carol… well, this was anything but easy. He didn't want to define his feelings for her. Did he want her… did he think about the way her lips felt on his… the way her molten, silky tongue felt as she'd sucked the bottom of his earlobe into her mouth… Okay, he thought about it. It was all he thought about.

This was the problem with having sex with her. She'd been in his head enough as it was, before they'd had sex. Now she was everywhere, even when she was avoiding him – she was everywhere.

He dropped his kills off at the campsite and moved to find her. He'd had enough. It was partially his fault anyway. He'd gotten himself into this mess just as much as she'd gotten herself into it.

One night. He should have said no then. He should have said it wasn't a good idea. And he shouldn't have hit Shane. He'd been jealous. Why the hell had he been jealous? And he shouldn't have kissed her in his tent… the list of shouldn'ts was long – too long.

He should go talk to her. He should go figure this shit out.

"Hi Daryl," Dale said as Daryl strode past. Daryl stopped, gave a nod at the older man.

"Ya seen Carol?," he asked hesitantly.

Dale looked thoughtful for a moment, pulled his hat off his head and scratched before putting it back on. "You know… I haven't… but I think she was going to do laundry in Hershel's basement today. You could check there."

Daryl nodded and went to move, but suddenly Dale had stepped closer. Daryl's eyes flickered to meet Dale's.

Dale smiled. "I'm not blind, you know… or deaf for that matter," Dale said, "You'd be smart to talk things out with her, figure out what's going on between you two."

"Ain't nothin' goin' on," Daryl growled, but his tone was unconvincing and Dale just gave him a look.

Daryl huffed, and stalked off toward the house. Who did Dale think he was, Daryl thought as he walked around the side of the house and saw the basement hatch was open.

He moved quietly down the stairs into the basement, careful not to make a sound. He could hear them talking as he moved into the shadows of the basement.

"Andrea never helps, haven't you noticed?," Lori said petulantly as she piled the wet laundry into a basket.

Carol looked at Lori sideways and shrugged. "She helps. Keeps watch, checks the borders for walkers… she's as good as the men with that gun… I'd say she helps a lot."

Lori sighed. "Oh that doesn't count. What about laundry?"

"What about it?," Carol said. She pulled her hands up out of the tub of water they'd been submerged in and turned to face Lori. "You know, Lori, I've got this… I can finish up here just fine. Why don't you go and relax?"

"I didn't mean…"

Carol smiled, shook her head. "I know. Of course, you didn't. But you do look tired, and really, I can finish up. It's no problem."

Lori smiled. "Well, if you insist… how bout I go up that way and lock up and you can bring the clothes through the house?" Carol nodded agreeably. Lori wiped her hands on her shirt and moved through the basement past the area where Daryl stood unnoticed and disappeared through the hatch. He heard the hinges protest as Lori closed the doors, the groan of the lock being latched from the outside.

Daryl stepped out of the shadows and into the area where Carol stood, her back to him. He heard the water draining and she bent over, heaved the basket of wet clothes up to put it on top of the table next to the tub. He watched the way her body filled her clothes, admiring her ass as she bent over again to grab a shirt that had fallen to the floor.

He cleared his throat and she jumped, whirling around to see who was there.

"Jesus, Daryl… when did you get here?"

"Was jus' waitin' for the first lady to leave," he muttered.

Carol smiled warmly. "The first lady… that sums it up pretty well, doesn't it? You should have heard her going on about poor Andrea."

Daryl smirked and Carol raised an eyebrow at him.

"You heard? Sneaky. I'm going to sew some bells into your shirts or something," Carol said.

"Easier to avoid me if ya did."

Carol frowned, paled at his comment. "I… I… well, I'm sorry about that."

Daryl shrugged. "Ain't nothin'."

Carol wiped her hands on her pant legs and moved forward, moving across the distance that gapped them until she stood a foot away. "No, Daryl, I feel bad about that. But frankly… I don't know how to talk to you. I don't know… how to explain myself…"

"Explain yerself?"

Carol nodded, and then she blushed as she spoke, "I like having sex with you."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, couldn't hide the way his lips turned up in response to her words.

"And I'm assuming… and tell me if I'm wrong… you like having sex with me?"

Daryl smiled, a real smile, with teeth and everything. "Ain't ba-ad…," he drawled softly and Carol laughed.

"Ever the charmer, Daryl Dixon," she said, her eyes twinkling and he couldn't help his eyes from moving down her face and to her lips. She was smiling, and then she stopped smiling and she licked her lips. He watched her tongue dart out and brush across her lower lip and he felt the ache in his stomach, the longing…

"We could keep doin' it," he said softly.

Carol opened her mouth, thought better of what she was going to say and then bit down on her lower lip. Daryl wanted to bit that lip… he felt himself growing hard. He'd never known his body to respond to a woman like this… how his body responded to her.

"We… could," Carol said slowly and his eyes went to meet hers.

"Be a shame not to," Daryl murmured, stepping forward at the same time she stepped to him as well, and they collided, their lips melding together in a way that suddenly felt natural. He felt her hands glide across his back, moved his hands beneath the back of her shirt, feeling the soft skin that she hid beneath her clothing. He left one hand at her shoulder blade, his fingers just grazing the nape of her neck, and moved his other hand to her hip, sliding slowly up under her shirt, gliding up her side, feeling the swell of her breast on his thumb as he relished the softness of her.

She moaned into his mouth, her tongue darting out to greet his own, and his arms moved again, clutching her to him, so close there wasn't even air between them. He needed more… more of her… more of this.

He wondered if it would be possible for him to ever get enough…


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – As promised… :) Hope it meets and exceeds expectation. **

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Chapter 8

Carol pulled back suddenly, one of her hands coming to rest on his chest, holding him a length away as she caught her breath. His eyes were intense on hers, his lips parted, moist from their kiss.

"Wait… someone could… we can't… not here...," she panted the words at him, her body still aching to be touched. But this was Hershel's basement. They didn't even sleep in the house, she was certain Hershel wouldn't like the idea of any of them having sex in it.

Daryl bit his lip, obviously thinking about it and then he eyed her fiercely. His gaze was brazen, emboldened, and she felt desire for him rip through her body, starting curiously enough at her feet, up her inner calf, the inside of her thigh, her womanhood twinging with wet heat as the desire made its way past it, up through her belly, through her chest, up and up straight into her brain and all she could think about was getting him to touch her again. She smiled at the look in his eyes, at the maddening desire that had taken hold of her.

"Ya smile like tha' and I ain't gonn' stop…," he growled.

Her smile widened.

"But here?," she asked innocently. Her resolve to stop was a sham at this point… she'd stopped overthinking it the moment he'd given her that look, the moment that desire had licked its way up her body. She wanted this… here, now… she didn't give a damn where they were, who came in. All that mattered was this moment… him and her in this moment.

The corner of Daryl's mouth turned up and he tilted his head to the side, surveying her gaze. "Hatch is shut…," he said softly, meaning to say more but his thoughts were interrupted by her mouth suddenly on his again.

It was instinctual, the way his hands went to her ass, grasped it and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist automatically. One of her hands was laced into the hair on the back of his head, her thumb resting on the point of his jaw below his ear. Her other arm was curved over his shoulder, roaming down the inside neck of his shirt, feeling the ripple of his back as he held her, as he kept a grasp on her and moved forward a few steps.

Carol's back hit the basket of clean wet clothes on the table next to the sink, and it skidded off the other side of the table as a result, basket and contents all falling to the floor. She heard the clatter of the basket as it slid, as it fell, but she was lost in Daryl as he set her down on the table so that she was seated, their faces level as their mouths stayed together, searching, tasting, yearning.

His tongue swept into her mouth, surprisingly cool, a contradiction against her hot little tongue. Daryl stood in between her legs, they were still wrapped at his waist, her ankles locked together and she pulled him in closer to her.

She could feel the bulge of his pants where he was hard and ready. She let the hand that had been on the back of his head drop, bringing it to his waist, to the button of his pants.

He broke the kiss and moaned as she undid his pants one-handed and granted herself access. Her hand moved in and snaked around his penis. He was rock hard, straining against her… she relished the silken feel of his taut skin and she pulled gently, rolling it against her palm.

"Fuck," the word was a hiss on the tip of Daryl's tongue.

"I want you, Daryl… I need you," she whispered and his eyes met hers before he brought his lips down on her. Their lips crushed together hard, and she opened her mouth, loving the feel of him kissing her, loving the feel of his tongue tangling with her own, she caught his tongue with her own suction as he went to break away and she wouldn't let him… she sucked his tongue, letting her own swirl around it, as her hand moved steadily sliding up and around his dick, gliding forward with a delicious friction, and she let her pinkie finger flick up as she reached the head, grazing the hole at the head.

Daryl stiffened, broke the kiss suddenly and moved off her mouth to kiss her jawline, down her neck, trailing hot, wet bites down to the hollow and then across her clavicle.

She made a sound in the back of her throat, released his dick and let his hands push her down so that she was laying half on the table and half off. He slid her shirt up her body and he was kissing her stomach, licking and nibbling his way up her upper body and she giggled when he nipped at her just below the bottom swell of her left breast.

His hands were busy undoing her pants as his mouth found its way to her nipple. She made a noise as she took a sharp breath at the feel of his mouth hot on her cool nipple, as she felt it respond, harden, purse up into a tight little knot. Her pants were sliding slowly down her rear and she lifted herself slightly so that he could pull them off with ease, taking her panties with them.

"Please, Daryl," she moaned as she felt his hand move roughly across her inner thigh.

He brought his head up to look at her. His eyes a molten fire, his passion all-consuming. She pulled forward, grabbed his lower lip with her teeth and let them scrape against his lip gently, her tongue drifting out along the way to trace its way down.

"Carol…," Daryl whispered before he kissed her and she felt the fullness of him as he pushed his way inside, as her insides stretched and made way for him. His hand suddenly on her hip was pulling her body forward on the table, and she opened her thighs wider to give him a deeper dish to drink from.

He made her feel complete. He made her feel alive as he thrusted in a rhythm that she seemed to know without question. She met him thrust for thrust… her body knowing what to do and responding to meet his frantic pace.

She kept her eyes open, locked on him and he smiled at her. A smile that lit up his whole face, sparked all the way to his eyes.

It was the smile that broke her. The look in his eyes as he watched her, and then she was breaking, her walls caving in around him, squeezing and releasing… suckling him for all he was worth and then he was falling over the edge too. She ground her hips against him as he came, milking him, and he lifted his face up toward the ceiling and groaned loudly with pleasure at the feel of his release.

His lips found hers again as his thrusts lost their strength, their determination, as their bodies trembled with aftershocks and Carol felt whole, alive, with his eyes locked on hers, his lips claiming her as his own.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N – It takes me so long to update this one, but finally, here it is. I think I'm only a few chapters away from a conclusion here. Let me know what you think? Thank you for your reviews! You're all wonderful and I appreciate your reading this so much! **

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Chapter 9

They were panting; her head tucked into his chest as he leaned against her and the table, standing there, bodies slicked with sweat at the exertion, coming down off the high of orgasm.

"Fuck," Daryl breathed into the top of Carol's head. He felt her move against his chest as she laughed.

"You can say that again," she mumbled, pulling back to separate herself from him so that she could meet his eyes.

"Fuck," he repeated, this time with a small, almost cocky smile on his lips. Carol smiled.

"We shouldn't keep this up," Carol said. "Sooner or later someone will catch us – if they haven't already – and then there'll be talk…"

Daryl shrugged. "Fuck 'em, let 'em talk then." He meant the words as he said them… he wasn't sure where they came from, but he knew he meant them. He didn't care what the others had to say about him and Carol.

Carol raised an eyebrow at him. "And if they talk… what will we say? How could we possibly explain this?"

"They talkin' already," Daryl said matter-of-factly with a slight eye roll.

"What? Who?," Carol asked pushing herself off the table she was sitting on to stand up and get her pants.

"Dale."

Carol smiled and Daryl gave her a questioning look.

"What?," he said.

"He probably already knew… he's Dale. He won't say anything to anyone," Carol said softly.

"Don't give a shit if he does," Daryl muttered, he was pulling his pants up as he said it and he stopped before he fixed to do the buckle to his belt, turning to look at her. "That's jus' it though, ain't it… you give a shit, dontcha?"

He watched her face grow pale. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have right now; he could see it in the nervousness across her delicate features. Did he really want to have this conversation? He kept his face expressionless, but he knew exactly what he wanted in that moment. This was a conversation he intended to have… right now.

"You know that's not what I meant, Daryl."

"Right… I'd know tha' cause yer so damn talkative bout yer feelins and shit lately," he muttered. He saw her raise an eyebrow at him, but he didn't care. People in glass houses… he'd never been one to talk about feelings, he knew that. But in a way they'd almost reversed roles… after that second time they'd had sex, in the tent after he'd fought with Shane… it had changed him, even though he hadn't want to admit it at first. And it had changed her, even if she didn't see it. She'd pulled away, avoided, run. That was his modus operandi, not Carol's. And he'd… he'd become the opposite of what he always thought he was.

The need for her had driven him here, to seek her out in the basement. It had made him wait until Lori had left. He'd wanted to talk but somehow their bodies always seemed to say more than their words ever could. But he couldn't keep doing this. He was going about this all wrong. You don't catch a squirrel by chasing after it, he knew that. Chasing was messy, a hunter had to be smart. Not that he was hunting Carol… but the theory was the same he supposed. He wanted her and even though he knew better than to go right out and confront his prey, he was doing it all the same.

"Really?," Carol said, "we're gonna go _there_?" And he knew what she was thinking of. After Sophia had died… he'd avoided _her. _He'd yelled at _her. _And she'd never even brought it up; she never even made an issue out of it. And now he wanted to make an issue about the fact that she'd avoided him for three days.

"Really, Daryl? You want me to talk about my feel-ings?," her voice was thickly veiled with sarcasm.

Daryl exhaled loudly, gritted his teeth and stared at her. What did he want? _Her._ Daryl wasn't a man who wanted a relationship, or at least he hadn't been. But if he was honest with himself, he wanted all of her. He wanted whatever she would let him have, and probably even more than that if the look on her face was any honest indication of her feelings on the subject.

"What do you want, Daryl?," she asked, her eyes searching his.

He sighed. "I don't give a shit wha' them others think bout me… I ain't never gonn' be nothin' but what I am, and I don't care wha' nobody thinks," he said, stepping forward so that he was inches away from her, the smell of her was intoxicating, invading his senses. "But I care what ya think, Carol. I ain't wanted to, been fightin' it like ya cain't even know, but _I_ care."

Carol tipped her head to the side and regarded him carefully. "Daryl…," she swallowed. The words on her tongue were clearly hard for her to say. "I care about you, you have to know that. But I don't think I can give you what you want."

Daryl exhaled, pulled his lips into a thin line. "You don't even know what I want," he murmured, his eyes averted as he spoke and then switching to meet hers at the last word. _I'll take whatever ya gonn' give me_.

Carol frowned, her brow was furrowed and the sadness he saw in her eyes caused him literal pain.

He moved his hand to touch her upper arm, letting his fingers glide down her soft skin, grazing her elbows, and then down to her wrist, lightly touching her.

"What do you want, Daryl?" She saw it in his eyes, he knew she must. "You can't understand. My only relationship was with Ed… losing him was no loss, but I can't just go from the loss of one man right into the arms of another." She blushed, she'd already been in his arms, she'd already crossed that line. "I can't give you a relationship, I can't. it's too soon, it's too fast, I don't know if I'll ever even get there. I… just… can't." She turned her head, she couldn't look at him; he could feel her apprehension.

He moved his free hand, stopping it at her chin, guiding her back to look at him, letting his fingers linger there softly. "So it ain't a relationship, that ain't no matter." He saw the hope dawn in her eyes.

"Just sex?," she said hesitantly, "what if it was just sex?"

Daryl shrugged. _You. I want all of ya_. He ignored the voice in the back of his head. The irony is that at the end of the world, after a lifetime of just sex and never wanting more, he finally wants more and she doesn't. "Fuck," he said under his breath so that she couldn't hear it, and he gave her a short nod – silent assent.

"Why?," Carol asked.

And the words on the tip of his tongue were the old Daryl, but somehow he knew were exactly what she needed to hear. "What else I got to do 'round 'ere?"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N – I know, I know. Last chapter was tough because Carol turned him down… but keep in mind that these two are both socially stunted. He doesn't know how to say what he wants, any more than she does. We know what he wants because he's all internal about it. And you're right if you think she's not thinking straight – she's not. But oh, don't worry, she will. :) **

**Hope you like! Thanks for the reviews! **

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Chapter 10

Carol was enjoying the new arrangement. She found herself humming that morning in the kitchen as she made breakfast. Hershel was so much more comfortable with them being there now; he'd been letting her use his kitchen for meals every day for the past two weeks. The group was still sleeping outside, in the RV and in tents – but it was just a matter of time before he invited them all inside to stay.

The good thing about the sleeping arrangements was that she'd developed a system so that she could see Daryl every night and no one was the wiser. It was easy once she'd gotten Hershel's okay for her to have control over the kitchen. Patricia could cook but she wasn't the best at it, and Maggie and Beth didn't seem to want to be bothered. Lori was still sick every meal so she was out as an option. Andrea contributed plenty as it was. And that left Carol, who was more than happy to take on the job.

And once she had control, it became up to her to make the meals and she volunteered to clean as well. _"It's easier, Hershel, that way I always know where everything is," she'd said._

She was never more grateful for those late night clean-ups in the kitchen… they gave her the perfect excuse to be late into the RV. And being late to the RV gave her the perfect opportunity to go to Daryl's tent to see him before she went to bed and he went for his shift at watch.

She still wasn't really sure what to think about what they were doing. But she liked that he made it easy not to think about it. After they had their talk in the basement, she'd been sure he'd change his mind. He'd decide that he didn't really want to keep messing around with her. Because that's what they were doing – messing around. But he hadn't changed his mind. She didn't want to define what they were. It was easy to be with him, easy to just let them be what they were – friends, a kinship, with something a little extra, an added benefit.

Ed was all she'd ever known, the only man she'd dated, the only man she'd been with… and he'd been an asshole, a catastrophe. She'd let him talk her into a relationship, into something that happened so fast it had stripped her of everything she was. She knew in her heart that Daryl was different, that he was going to take anything from her, that if anything – he'd only give her more to build upon. But her head was wary, her head was too vocal with her fears and it drowned out the soft meek voice of her heart.

She'd thought for sure Daryl would push her, or drop her… but he didn't. He was just there, holding her in secret when she needed to be held but couldn't ask, and clearly loving her when she wasn't ready to love back. Or at least… when she wasn't ready to admit that she loved back.

The first night after their talk that she'd gone to him, creeping into his tent in the dark, she'd been sure he'd snap at her about her hesitation, at her sneaky but outright refusal to tell the world that she cared for him. Or at the very least for her creeping around in the dark by herself. But he'd seemed to expect her when she'd come , his mouth had been just as desperate for her as hers had been for him, as they'd found each other in the dark, clinging like teenagers as they stripped each other of their clothes and explored parts of each other they'd merely deflected off of previously.

She'd seen all of him at one point or another during that first night, during that second time in the tent… but she hadn't been paying attention. Not like that night two weeks ago after they'd agreed that their arrangement would be just sex, clandestine sex in the dark of the night… that night, she'd let her fingers explore every inch of him, and she'd been putty in his hands as his own fingers danced their way across her body. She knew each scar intimately now, knew the bend of each ridge beneath the pads of her thumbs, beneath the wet warmth of the tip of her tongue. She knew that he'd held his breath as her mouth moved to the largest scar on his chest, as she kissed it, as her tongue caressed its jagged beauty.

They had been together every night since for two weeks. She'd clean up as quickly as possible, move around the back of the house in the dark until she made it to his tent, and crawl inside where he'd be waiting. There was always touching of some sort, but not always sex, and she enjoyed the lying with him in comfortable silence just as much as she enjoyed the tumultuous coupling that left her panting and smiling with satisfaction and delight.

The door opened behind her and she turned, the smile fading from her face when she saw it was Shane. She'd felt his eyes on her during breakfast the past two mornings. She'd been cooking, her back to the dining room where everyone else had been eating, and she'd felt the heat of his gaze on her backside. When she'd turned, he hadn't even had the prudence to look away.

"Mornin' Carol," he said breezily as he stepped inside.

She smiled reservedly, and wiped her hands on the dish towel hanging off the handle of the stove. "You're early… it's not ready yet."

He was across the room, in her space, with a matter of steps, and she swallowed her worry in a futile attempt to make herself feel better about his unwanted proximity.

He smiled, his eyes a bit blank as he stared at her, "That's not a problem, I'll just keep you company as you cook. You're looking rather happy these days… it suits you." He stretched a hand out, brushing the back of his hand against the side of her hip as she quickly sidestepped away, and grasped the dish towel pulling it free of the oven handle and using it to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Shane…," she said but was interrupted by movement outside the door. Daryl stepped into view through the window and she caught his eye. She felt relief flood through her and she couldn't stop the small smile from creeping across her lips as the door opened and Daryl stepped inside. As if on cue, Shane stepped back, out of Carol's personal space, his head turning, his eyes cold and hard on Daryl as he nodded a sharp greeting.

Daryl raised his chin and eyed Shane, before switching his eyes to Carol and giving her a small half-smile. "Coffee?," he inquired and she nodded, her lips spreading into a smile as all her discomfort with Shane faded from her thoughts.

She turned away from the two men and busied herself getting a mug and pouring the coffee, and she felt the rush of air as the door was opened and heard the bang as it slammed shut a little too forcefully. The shaky breath that left her was one of relief as she knew instantly who had left the cozy little kitchen in that moment.

"Ya a'right?" His voice was low and close as he must have stepped up directly behind her, and she nodded, grasping the warm mug in her hands and turning into him, facing him, so that they were inches apart, his eyes searching her face.

"I'm fine. He just… I don't think he means any harm."

Daryl took the mug from her grip, raised it to his lips and took a long swallow. When he lowered the mug, his eyes were on her again. "I don't trust 'im," he murmured softly before turning away and moving back across the kitchen to the other wall at the sound of Hershel and Beth coming down the stairs.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N – Just a little bit of fun in this chapter… hope you like! Thank you for your awesome comments and reviews! I'm so glad you are all still reading! **

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Chapter 11

"Will ya quit pointin' that thing at me?," Daryl hissed with a little less menace than usual because the comment was directed at Carol and not at anyone else.

They'd left early that morning, hiking out deep into the woods surrounding Hershel's farm. The plan was a lengthy lesson on gun use, and maybe… if there was time, he'd consider showing her how to use his crossbow.

She'd actually asked to try the crossbow, which had surprised him. She'd given him a quirky – bordering on flirtatious – smile and said, "Just a quick lesson on the bow, Daryl? Oh come on, you show me yours and I'll show you mine…" Of course his response had been grumbling and short – "ya ain't got nothin' to show." But she'd laughed all the same.

Daryl was noticing a change in Carol since they'd begun their little… whatever it might be called… tryst, perhaps? Carol was changing around him, slowly, laboriously; and he sure as shit knew that he'd changed as well because of her. They still hadn't discussed it, what exactly they were doing, what _they_ were, not beyond the one conversation that it was a just sex situation.

Carol smiled sheepishly and lowered the gun that had momentarily been pointed in Daryl's direction. It was probably his own fault for distracting her; she'd spun around at something he'd said, and clearly hadn't realized the gun was still in her hands.

"Having flashbacks to when Andrea shot you?," Carol teased slightly, the gun weighty in one hand at her side, and her other hand automatically going to rest on her hip.

Daryl snorted. "Hell, woman, that ain't nothin' to joke about. I fuckin got shot in the head."

"Oh, that shot just grazed you," Carol said coolly, a soft smile on her lips, and spun away from him toward the cans he had propped up for her to shoot at.

He watched her aim, hesitate, re-aim, and then pull the trigger a multitude of times. She was learning; it was slow, but she was learning. Three out of five cans were knocked down before she turned back to him, this time the gun held carefully at her side.

He nodded, gave her a slight smirk, and said, "ya ain't awful."

Carol laughed, and he liked the way her smile lit up her whole face in a way that he'd never noticed before. Of course, there wasn't often a lot to smile about he supposed. And Carol certainly hadn't had much to smile about in their earlier days at the farm.

"So we there now?," he said softly, the question more in his head and less in his heart.

"There?," Carol asked.

"To the point where we can make jokes bout… well… before, when yer girl was gone and I got shot."

The smile that passed Carol's lips now was a little sad, and her eyes sparkled briefly before she swallowed whatever emotion might have been tickling her.

"I don't think I'll ever entirely be _there_, but…" She shrugged, her eyes downcast, the words clearly failing her and Daryl took a step forward, put his hand on her arm causing her to look up at him again.

"S'alright, ya know. Ya lost yer girl, ain't nothin' to joke about that there."

"I don't know, Daryl. I miss her, but sometimes I'm almost glad she's gone, that she's not here, living this life like we are." She paused, frowned. "Does that make me a bad mother? Being almost glad that my daughter is dead?"

Daryl shook his head. "Yer not glad, woman. I know ya, ya ain't glad she's gone… yer jus' glad she's safe."

Carol smiled then, gave him a nod, and he leaned in and kissed her.

Kissing Carol was always full of passion and heat, their arms and lips saying everything they felt and wanted and needed, even when Daryl's head and voice couldn't quite say what needed to be said. When the kiss broke, they were both panting and he leaned his forehead against hers, keeping his arms firmly around her, their bodies flush together.

"Shouldn't you be finishing my lesson?," Carol said softly.

"Oh I'm bout to give ya a lesson," Daryl responded quickly. He felt her smile as much as saw it, and he gave her another quick kiss before pulling back. "Come on, I got a place we can go."

They took the two guns and Daryl's bow with them as they moved through the woods a little farther until they found the place Daryl was looking for. It was a small farmhouse, rickety, and much more dilapidated than Hershel's was.

"Oh look, a fixer-upper," Carol quipped.

Daryl scowled at her. "Ain't askin' ya to live in it."

Carol bit her lip and she gave him a look that could have peeled the skin off a banana, more come-hither than he'd ever seen. Far in the back of his head, he remarked to himself how different she was becoming, how sexy, and brazen, and strong.

"Then what _are_ you asking me to do in it?," Carol asked boldly.

Daryl smirked. "It's empty… there's a bed and all."

"What are we waiting for then?," Carol grinned, moving past him and into the house, their weapons at the ready in case the house proved to be less empty than Daryl had originally thought.

When they reached the bedroom, Carol paused in the doorway, and Daryl wondered if maybe she was thinking about the previous occupants. There hadn't been any sign of life when he'd found the place during one of his hunts, so he had no way of knowing what had happened to whomever had lived there. He stood behind her in the doorway, put a hand to her hip and felt the jut of bone there.

She turned her head slightly and smiled at him. "I'm just thinking that I've never had sex with you in a bed before… makes it seem all old-fashioned."

"We can do it on the floor, if ya'd like," Daryl suggested teasingly.

And then they were kissing, her hands tangled in his hair as his arms wrapped around her waist, one hand creeping up her shirt to feel the soft smoothness of her back. As her tongue flitted into his mouth, he felt himself grow hard, his erection pushed at his pants eagerly. He felt one of her hands slide down the front of his pants and wrap around him, her hand hot and soft against the hard smooth granite of him.

"I bet you wouldn't care what I pointed at you now," Carol murmured breaking the kiss with a coy smile.

"Long as I can point back," Daryl said as Carol deftly removed his pants, sliding them down his legs, and crouching in front of him at the same time.

He hissed with pleasure as her mouth found him, her lips and tongue, hot and wet encircling him and he felt his length harden beyond what it already was.

"Lord," he muttered as her mouth worked magic for a few moments before he put a hand to her shoulder… he wanted her; he needed to be inside her.

She rose to his level again and they kissed passionately, his hands going to cup her ass and then lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. He moved forward, carrying her backwards to the bed, laying her down on her back and pulling her pants off in one smooth motion.

He looked down at her lying there before him, let a hand move her shirt up to reveal a soft breast, the nipple at full attention. He dipped his head down to kiss it, opening his mouth and taking the small nub inside, suckling, and then biting softly. He moved to the second breast and did the same, enjoying the little pebble that hardened and pointed at his touch.

Then he poised above her, his manhood gliding at her opening, taunting as he grazed her there. She was wet, ready, and she smiled as he slid himself inside, her walls stretching to accommodate as she tilted her hips to give him a deeper dish to drink from. He started to thrust as she rocked with him, rising with her hips to meet him as he drove himself harder and deeper into her. They kept the pace with each other, the bed trembling beneath them, squeaking to their rhythmic pattern.

**BANG** – and the side of the bed where they lay seemed to fracture beneath them, and suddenly the bed was tilted toward the floor and they were sliding, nearly tumbling to the wood floor nearly before they realized what had happened. Daryl started to laugh and so did Carol as they lay there awkwardly, at an angle, Daryl's foot now on the floor being all that balanced them there precariously, the bed broken and unlevel beneath them.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N – I did something new in this chapter. I broke into another character's POV… I did it as an experiment to try to end my writer's block and I couldn't stop once I did. Hope you like! Please read and review! **

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Chapter 12

Anger wasn't the word. It wasn't anger that held him transfixed to the spot where he stood, balancing on the balls of his feet, his baseball hat pulled low over his eyes, watching. Watching and waiting. It was quiet now; the creaking of the floor beneath the naked couple in the next room had stopped. He had only minutes before he'd have to creep down the hallway and out of this abandoned farmhouse back toward the Greene farm. It was either that or risk getting caught. Getting caught by that goddamn hillbilly Daryl Dixon was the last thing on his list of things to do.

He wasn't sure what pissed him off more. Fucking Daryl Dixon getting more pussy than he was or Rick for thinking that hillbilly redneck fuck was better than him. Fucking Daryl Dixon had become Rick's right-hand man when he'd stopped looking. Somewhere after he'd fucking risked his neck to save Carl's life, risked his neck to put a bullet in Otis to just get back with those goddamn medical supplies… cause _fuck…_

Rick and he were partners. They'd had each other's backs. If a person didn't get too old to have a best friend… well Rick had been his, and he was fucking positive that Rick had thought Shane his best friend as well. And now… now things were all upside down and fucking Daryl Dixon was Rick's man. Rick's _guy_.

Shane was trembling now, rage and adrenaline surging thru his veins.

God, it felt good to be pissed.

He wondered as he spun on the ball of his foot and moved stealthily and silently out the way he'd come in, he wondered if perhaps he was going crazy.

He'd felt out of control, disjointed, disconnected, for weeks now. Ever since Lori's fucking apology. Bitch led him on. And Rick fucking knew... he knew that kid was his and that fucking twat knew it too. That baby was sure as shit his. Shane Junior and there wasn't a doubt in his mind.

When had he lost Rick? When had Rick turned against him? He couldn't understand it. He took Lori and Carl and got them the hell out when the world went to shit. He left Rick… well he _had _to. There wasn't another option. How was he supposed to know that Rick would wake up, that Rick could wake up? That wasn't his fault.

He supposed sleeping with Lori hadn't been the best idea. But it wasn't like he'd planned it. It wasn't like he'd premeditated it. It wasn't like he'd been the one to shoot Rick in some harebrained scheme to kill his best friend and partner just to steal his wife. And hell… he hadn't stolen her anyway.

He'd loved her. And regardless of what Lori said now – she'd loved him too. He'd felt it. You can't fake that. You couldn't fake what they had. And he could live with her throwing him to the side after Rick came back. He hadn't liked it. He still didn't like it.

Rick's priorities were flawed – fucked up – Lori and Carl came last when they should be the only thing Rick should be concerned with. They were the first and only thing Shane was concerned with.

She couldn't see that. She couldn't feel that. Fucking Lori.

Shane sighed, removed his cap and ran a hand over his shaven hair, feeling the soft fuzz of his scalp rub across his calloused fingers. Fuck.

Fucking Lori. Fucking Rick. Fucking Daryl fucking Dixon.

He slipped out the side door to the house and fled the clearing into the woods. He knew Carol and Daryl would head back this way and he needed a safe distance between them. He wasn't about to get caught now.

Lori didn't want him... fucking fine. She could go be fucking miserable with Rick for all the shits he could give about it. He loved her; God, he still loved her, but he was over it. Hell, he knew she'd come back anyway. Rick would go off to save another fucking cat in a tree and Lori would hop into Shane's bed again - he was sure of it.

And if she didn't... well... if Rick wanted Dixon as his second instead of Shane – fine. Keeping Dixon busy sucking Rick's cock would give Shane a chance to swoop in on Carol. And swoop he would. He'd been watching her since that day the women had been dancing, since the day he'd noticed the way Carol's ass managed to fill out her jeans. It wasn't like there were a lot of other options. Andrea had lost interest, which was just as well. That bitch knew too much. That bitch had something to say about everything. But Carol… she was used to be led, to being told what to do. _That _he could work with.

And if and when Lori did decide to come back, the joke would be on her, wouldn't it? He'd be off with a new woman and wouldn't give two shits about Lori anymore. Or maybe he'd just have them both. That'd work too.

He was good with the ladies. He always had been. The Shane of old was a player; he'd recounted many conquests to Rick over the years, but he'd known how to treat his women right. If Carol screamed for Dixon, well, she'd lose her voice over what Shane could do.

His hand started to twitch as he walked and he shook it absently. There was something wrong with him... or maybe there wasn't. Maybe he was better now than he'd been in weeks, months. Maybe he was finally thinking clearly. Maybe it was Shane's time to finally get his. He'd waited long enough as it was.

* * *

Carol smiled as she stepped out of the house behind Daryl. They'd broken a bed but it hadn't slowed them down any. She winced slightly as she put a hand to her back, feeling where a piece of her shirt was sticking to the wood-burn that would probably stay with her for a few days. It was worth it.

As her legs caught up to Daryl's in the woods and he laced her fingers into her own, she felt her stomach flip a little with surprise. He made her feel like she was ten feet tall and bulletproof. He made her feel like the world wasn't in some topsy turvy the dead are walking kind of hell. He made her feel like she could keep going after Sophia had gone. Her fingers tightened around his own and he glanced at her as they walked.

"Thank you," she said softly, her words halting him and he faced her, a puzzled look in his eyes as his hand dropped from hers.

"Ya thankin' me for sex now?," he mumbled.

She chuckled out loud and shook her head.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at her with a sly smile and said, "well hell, I know I's good, but don't go sellin' yerself short."

Her grin was wide this time and he shrugged turning away to start walking again but froze the moment her arms wrapped around him. She stood behind, her arms automatically going around his waist, her hands splaying together across his hard chest. He was as still as a statue, like a wild beast that was suddenly caught in a trap.

Her mouth was at his ear as she whispered the words, "I didn't know how much I needed this until I let myself realize that it was okay… I need you, Daryl. I don't know if you feel the same or if this… this arrangement is fine with you, but I think I'm starting to need you for more than just sex. I think I'm starting to want to need you for more than just sex."

_I love you._

They were the words in her head; the words she couldn't give voice to, but weighed heavy in her heart. She was scared even as she thought them. This was fast. It wasn't really… but it was. She'd loved him for longer than she could remember, but she'd kept denying it. She'd kept telling herself no. He'd never want her. But then he did. And then she'd told herself that he didn't really, that it was just pity, he couldn't really want her… but he did. She felt it in the hesitation of his breath as she said the words, "I need you, Daryl," and the steady beat of his heart against the palm of her hand.

His body relaxed beneath her fingers, his stiff back loosened against her breasts pressing against him, and his head tilted back ever so slightly to lean into her own, his ear resting against her lips.

"I need ya too, Carol, I need ya too," his voice was soft, drawling the words in that way that only he could as he said them, and her lips turned up against his ear, smiling as she realized that maybe this was the start of something good.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N – Hope you like! I feel like this story is getting close to its conclusion but we've got a little bit to go. I'm hoping to keep up on my updates from now on and post something new on this one at least once a week until it's finished. Please read and review!**

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Chapter 13

Daryl nodded a greeting as he approached Rick at the top of the hill. He kept one elbow bent, his hand at his shoulder, fingers resting lazily on the hilt of his crossbow.

"Hey, Daryl," Rick said as he continued to survey the area, one hand shading his eyes as he glanced around.

Daryl cleared his throat as he waited, shifting on the balls of his feet. Finally, Rick exhaled and stopped what he was doing to turn and look at Daryl.

"Things have been going well," Rick said, "but I'm getting the feeling it's time to move."

"Why's 'at?," Daryl said.

Rick sighed exaggeratedly. "Hershel saw Carl and Beth kissing and suggested – in most certain terms – that perhaps we shouldn't be living on his land right now."

"We jus' gonn' pick up and go?," Daryl asked agitatedly.

Rick shook his head. "Well, no… I'm thinking there's got to be more farms in this area. Moving on doesn't have to mean moving far. Hershel doesn't mind if we're in the neighborhood, he just wants a little space between the kids. Not too far… close enough for him to help when the baby comes."

Daryl nodded to himself, shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk back down the hill.

"Did you need something?," Rick asked as an afterthought, "I'm sure you didn't come up here to hear about my drama."

Daryl snorted inwardly. "I… uh… wanted to let ya know me and Carol gonn' be sharin' a tent from now on. Wanted to… uh… keep ya in the loop, I guess."

Rick raised an eyebrow, his face a bit taken aback before he quickly recovered, "oh… well thank you, Daryl, I appreciate that."

Daryl paused as if expecting Rick to say more and when he didn't, Daryl turned to make his retreat down the hill. Before he got more than a few steps, he heard Rick fall into step with him.

"So… are you and Carol a… well… a… what would you call what you two are?," Rick said uncomfortably.

Daryl stopped in his tracks, resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead narrowed an angry glare at Rick. "I don' know, Rick… guess I'd jus' call us _Daryl_ and _Carol_."

"You know that's not what I meant," Rick started to say but Daryl held up a hand.

"Then what the fuck did-ya mean? This don't concern ya, and it don't concern the group neither. I was jus' lettin' ya know so when yer wife needs to do her bitchin' to somebody she don't freak out when she cain't find Carol." With that Daryl spun on his heel and stalked off ignoring Rick's protests until he couldn't hear them anymore.

He didn't get what the big fucking deal was. Carol was going to start sleeping in his tent instead of in the RV… hell, she'd been doing it for weeks just nobody knew about it. What was the difference now?

Carol hadn't even wanted him to say anything. She'd said she'd tell Dale – who already knew anyway – just because it was his RV she'd be vacating. But she'd told him they didn't need to make a big thing about it to anyone. No one else needed to know. They'd figure it out eventually.

But he'd wanted to tell Rick. He'd grown to trust Rick over the last few weeks and he felt like he had a responsibility to keep Rick in the know about things. A few weeks ago, Rick had trusted him with his concerns about Shane and Lori, and the least Daryl felt like he could do was return that same trust to Rick.

He shook his head as he reached his campsite, aggravated at himself for overreacting. Rick hadn't meant anything by it… it was a fair question to ask, Daryl supposed. But it wasn't a question that he knew the answer to, now was it? What would he call what they – Carol and Daryl – were?

* * *

Carol was peeling potatoes in the kitchen. Hershel had just dumped them off from the morning's harvest and she'd gone right to work with them. She wanted mashed potatoes with dinner. Or no, she wanted shepherd's pie. She put down the potato she was working on and the peeler and went to the table where Hershel had dumped the rest of the day's crop… corn. She smiled as she grabbed two ears, placed them on the counter and went back to work on the potatoes.

It wouldn't be real shepherd's pie… they didn't have any ground meat. But Daryl's catch from the following day would work just as well. Could she call it shepherd's pie when it was rabbit meat instead of beef? She didn't know but she intended to all the same.

The side door opened and she glanced up to see Shane step inside.

"Oh hey, Carol," he said softly, glancing around the room before locking his eyes on hers. "Whatcha doing?"

She smiled amiably, "I'm thinking on making shepherd's pie for tonight."

Shane nodded, his lower lip dropped open – she imagined because the idea of shepherd's pie was as appealing to him as it was to her.

"Sounds good," he said, stepping forward into the kitchen, one hand at his side, and the other behind his back. He stepped past her into the foyer and glanced over towards the other side of the house. "Where's everybody else?"

"Oh," Carol said, her attention back on the potatoes, "around, I guess… not real sure." She paused in her peeling, and turned her head to look at him when suddenly he was right behind her. Shane snaked one arm around her upper body, his hand coming down to clamp over her mouth, muffling the start of a scream in her throat; his other arm grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back against him.

"Sshhh..sshhh… you be good now, you hear me?," his voice was low in her ear as he spoke, she could feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck. He released her waist and she squirmed to try and break free, but he was too strong, too quick. He spun her around to face him. Before she even realized his free hand wasn't empty anymore, he bashed something down into the side of her skull and she went limp and unconscious in his arms.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N – I'm nearing the close on this story… but we definitely have a few chapters left before we're there. Hope you like this latest installment… please read and review if you do! Hugs to all my most recent reviewers! I love hearing from all of you. **

**I hope that all my readers who might have been affected by Hurricane Sandy are doing okay and have fared well in the storm. **

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Chapter 14

"Ya seen Carol?," Daryl asked Glenn casually as he strode into the camp after his hunt. He had four squirrels hung up on his line and two rabbits. He was looking forward to giving them to Carol – enough food for the rest of the week added on to what they already had.

Glenn glanced around before shaking his head. "Might be at Hershel's… I think she was cooking up something good for tonight. I saw _potatoes_." He smiled at the last word, eagerness filling his face.

Daryl's stomach grumbled at the thought.

Rick stepped out of his own tent then; his eyes flickering to Daryl's, and he gave a small smirk before saying, "You check _your_ tent?." Rick's tone was teasing. _Damn Rick… 'lways thinks he knows ev'rythin'_.

Daryl cut his eyes at the man and then turned to head towards the farmhouse, a slight smile on his lips. "Maybe she's wit' Carl and Beth…," Daryl called back over his shoulder, mimicking Rick's tone. If he'd glanced backwards, Daryl would have seen the grin spread across Rick's face as he shook his head.

Daryl strode purposefully toward the door to the kitchen and was just about there when the door swung open and Shane stepped out.

"Hey there, Daryl," Shane said, stepping heavily off the step and directly into Daryl's path. He was wiping his hands on his pants as he stepped, as if he'd just washed them and they were wet.

Daryl gave a cursory nod at Shane and stepped to the side to move around the man. As they crossed each other – Daryl to the left and Shane to the right – he stilled at Shane's words.

"You lookin' for Carol? She's not inside."

Daryl turned his head, eyeing Shane cautiously. "Know where she is?," Daryl questioned guardedly.

Shane made a clucking sound as he moved his tongue to the inside of his gums and pulled it back. He shook his head slowly as he did it. A thoughtful look crossed his face, his mouth agape just slightly; his eyes calm but almost twitchy as he held Daryl's gaze. "Nope, can't say that I've seen her." Then Shane grinned at Daryl like they were best friends or something and then moved past him without another word. Daryl watched him go, his eyes narrowed, his body tense at the interaction.

"Something's up with that one…," came a voice from the door and Daryl turned his head quickly to see Hershel standing there.

"Ya seen Carol?," Daryl asked gruffly.

"Not here… but she was, there's a pile of potato peels in the sink – potatoes stacked on the counter, one of 'em just half peeled. Darnedest thing… almost like she up and left in the middle of it," Hershel said.

"D'rnedest thing," Daryl echoed, turning his head away from Hershel to watch Shane's back retreating in the distance. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

* * *

Carol blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light… or lack thereof. She pulled herself up to a seated position, realized her hands were bound together, a rope extending from the center of her bindings and ending at a cast iron ring sticking out of the floor in front of her.

"Perfect," she said aloud, sarcasm dripping from the word, "just perfect."

She put her hands to her face awkwardly, letting the bindings dig into her skin as she moved. There was a lump on her head where Shane had struck her, but she couldn't feel anything else as she felt across her face, over her head, down her neck and shoulders, and everywhere else she could manage to get her hands. She was fully clothed and aside from a splitting headache, didn't feel any pain. She would take those as good signs.

She pulled on the rope that tethered her to the floor. It was long; she shifted so that she could put her legs beneath her and hoisted herself up to a standing position. She could stand – another good sign. She looked around at her surroundings. It was dark, she was clearly alone, and the room was small. Room? A shed perhaps.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?," she called out at a shout, but careful to keep any anxiety out of her tone. No response. So she wasn't anywhere where someone might hear her. That's **not** a good sign.

Moments went by, but she wasn't sure how many.

She heard a click finally, and then the creak of a door. She realized the room, or shed, or whatever type of containment it was, was actually larger than she'd first thought. A flash of sunlight shining through the door told her it was still daytime, and then Shane stepped inside before shutting the door briskly behind him. He stepped forward so that she could see him, although not close enough to where she could reach him if she had tried. Carol eyed him, held his gaze for a moment before he glanced around in the dim light. She stood there, unsure of what to do.

Shane crouched down; his knees bent, and ran one hand over his head, then back across his dark close-cropped shaven hair, and finally ran the hand down his face and stroked the stubble at his chin.

He glanced up at where she stood. "Remember the day I helped clean you up after we found Sophia?"

"Shane…," she started to say.

"Hell," he interrupted, "you know **I'm** the one who found her… I'm the one opened that barn… so hell, I'm the one who found your little girl."

"What's going on here, Shane?," Carol said.

His eyes flashed at the question, confusion crossing his features. "What's going on here," he echoed. "I just wanna talk to you, Carol. Can't a man wanna talk?"

Carol lowered herself to the ground slowly, sitting down across the room from where he crouched so that she was as close to eye level with him as possible. "This isn't smart, Shane. You ought to let me go. Daryl's gonna find me, and when he does… he's gonna be pissed. At you. If you just let me go, we can head back, pretend this never happened." _Or not. But whatever gets me the hell out of here. _

"You're a pretty lady, Carol. I didn't notice it before… it's a sad thing your husband did to you. Destroyed you – anyone could see that. You remember the day I beat the stuffing out of old Ed? Seems like I've always been around protecting you, don't it?"

"Shane…," Carol said, her voice firm.

"But hell, I'm just that kind of guy," he interrupted, his voice tweaking up a notch as pride filled his tone.

"You're not thinking right...," Carol said.

"I mean, all I've ever done is try to keep ya'll safe… your family, Lori, Carl… hell, I've had Rick's back more than anybody. No one liked him, you know, no one on the force liked him. Thought he was a tool bag short a tool. But I… I stuck up for him. I had his back. I took care of his family when the world went to hell. You think I didn't have family? People I should have been taking care of, 'stead of them? My sister… I left my sister to help Lori and Carl. I left my sister behind for Rick. For Lori. For Carl. And this is how I get repaid?" His arms moved as he talked, his hands flailing as if they had something to add to the conversation. He glanced around the room, looking anywhere else but directly at her.

_Someone here is a tool bag short of a tool, but I don't think it's Rick. _"Shane…," she tried to assume control of the conversation to get him to look at her again, to get him to see reason. "The others are going to know I'm gone, Shane. They're going to figure it out. You can't keep me here."

"I ain't afraid of the others… what the hell are they gonna do?," Shane said then. He glanced at her and held her gaze, his eyes menacing. He lifted his chin then, snarling at her. "The others," he scoffed, "you mean Daryl…" He glanced away from her then, pausing, his eyes going to the floor, and he took a swipe at the dirt in front of him, dragging his hand across it slowly, pushing it to the side.

"What is it you see in him anyway… the hillbilly?," Shane asked then, all menace gone from his tone.

"He's a good man," she said, her words almost automatic, so ingrained in her feelings for Daryl.

Shane kept his eyes averted, his head moving fast in a short nod as he spoke, "Rick thinks so." Then he swiped angrily at the dirt on the floor again, and glanced up at her, his movements manic. "But I don't. And I don't give a shit what ya'll think about that redneck fuck… he's a danger to the group. He's a danger to you. And I'm gonna kill him."

_No. You're **not**. That's just not going to happen._

"What is it you want?," Carol asked, struggling to keep her voice calm, her feelings contained.

Shane ignored her, stood up abruptly and turned away from her towards the door. He stopped at the wall, leaned against it, one arm up, palm flat on the wall, and he put his face to his arm.

"Is it Lori?," she said. "What is it you want, Shane?"

He started to cry then, soft muffled sobs as he cried into his arm. She watched as his shoulders shook; she listened to the sound of those sobs, to the sound of his anguish. As quickly as it had started, suddenly he was angry again, growling loudly to himself as he pushed back off the wall, stepped back clumsily, yanking open the door to the outside and disappearing into the sunlight.

And she was alone again. Carol sighed softly to herself, twisting her wrists so that she could rub one thumb across the bindings that tied her wrists together.

"Perfect," she said aloud to herself, repeating the words she'd spoken earlier, "just perfect."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N – A short installment. I'm working on the next one though and hope to get it up this week. I wanted to get us to this point and it seemed like such a good spot to stop at. Hope you like! Thank you for the awesome reviews! **

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Chapter 15

"I know ya know where she is," Daryl growled, stepping forward into Shane's face, pointing his finger at him, sticking it straight in his face.

Shane rocked back on his heels but just grinned a little. His smile was cocky and Daryl felt his blood boil at Shane's words. "Where who is?"

"Cut it out, Shane," Rick roared, "this isn't funny, and it's dark now…"

"You know damn well who I'm talkin' bout," Daryl snapped, cutting Rick off mid-sentence, "wipe tha' pansy ass smirk off ya face."

"Where's Carol, Shane?," Lori said softly, stepping into view from behind Rick. Shane's eyes flickered to her face, then down to her burgeoning belly, and then back to her face.

"Now you've got something to say?," Shane said softly, and then he cut his eyes back at Daryl. "Now… what were you saying again?"

Shane stumbled back as Daryl's fist rammed hard into Shane's jaw without warning.

"Ya sonovabitch," Daryl growled, advancing a step on Shane and swinging again. Shane ducked, brought up his right hook which Daryl deflected.

"You wanna dance, redneck?," Shane laughed before Daryl popped him in the mouth. Shane connected with Daryl's ribcage.

"Stop it," Rick was saying, "this isn't…"

"Helping," Lori said, finishing Rick's sentence.

Shane waited for Daryl to swing again before sidestepping, flashing a cocky grin. Daryl launched himself at Shane, shoving his shoulder into Shane's mid-section with a grunt and the two went down with a thud, tumbling, rolling, wrestling as they each grappled for control of the other man.

"That's enough!," Hershel called out. Daryl ignored it, when had Hershel even come outside; this was the group's problem, no concern of his. Daryl rolled Shane over onto his back and swung, hearing Shane's nose crack upon the connection. Then suddenly Daryl felt cold water blast into him, his back, then his side, then his front. He lost his balance, fell back off Shane and looked up dripping wet as the flow of water just ceased.

Daryl and Shane both looked in shock at Hershel, standing there next to Rick with a high pressure hose in his hands. "This is still my farm, and when I say enough, that's enough," Hershel said.

Dale was in the doorway to the RV, trying to choke down a chuckle, and he met Daryl's eye. The older man's face was etched with worry even despite the chuckle. Daryl knew if anyone here was as worried as he was about Carol, it was Dale.

Daryl felt someone grab his bicep to help him get up, but he jerked his arm away, huffing, "I can git up m'self." His eyes met Glenn's as he spoke and Glenn held his hands up in a position of surrender. Daryl stepped forward to stand over where Shane still sat on the ground, knees bent, his hands palm down behind his back supporting himself. "Ya tell me where she is, or I swears to whatever Lord ya wanna pray to that I'll kill ya." Daryl's voice was stone cold, dead serious, and his eyes flashed angrily locked with Shane's.

"Dad…," Carl's voice came from somewhere to the side of Daryl but he kept his eyes locked on Shane's.

"Not now, Carl," Lori said, her voice dismissive.

"Dad…," Carl said again.

"Carl," Rick chided, "not now."

"But…," Carl started to say.

"What's yer problem?," Daryl snapped, turning his head quickly to look at Carl who stood behind Rick, his body turned to the side, his eyes focused on something in the distance.

_Walkers_…

"Fuck," Daryl said, his eyes meeting Rick's fleetingly as he nodded toward what Carl was focused on. The open field where Carl was looking was filled with them; walkers, moving forward with their jerky gait, heading straight towards the farm.

"Daddy," Beth screamed from the porch of the house, "Daddy!" Maggie cast a glance at her father and then Glenn before she started to run towards the house, towards her sister.

"Bethie," Maggie hollered, "get Patricia!"

"Shit, there's gotta be hundreds of 'em," T-Dog said, tossing Daryl his crossbow, nodding at Andrea as she held up her gun.

"What're we gonna do?," Andrea said, her eyes meeting Rick's.

"Board up the house?," Lori suggested, "we'll be safe in there."

"Nah," Rick started to say and paused as Daryl finished the thought.

"Herd that size'll tear down the house," Daryl muttered.

"We should run," Glenn said, "get in the cars and just go."

"This is my farm… I'll defend it, or I'll die here," Hershel said but all Daryl could hear was the pounding his own ears.

"I ain't leavin' wit'out Carol…," Daryl said, grabbing Shane by the collar and yanking him up off the ground.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N – Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the great reviews to the last chapter! I hope you like this one! It has three different POVs in it, but I hope it doesn't come off as disjointed. I should get another Benefits chapter up this week and I'm hoping to catch up on my other fics as well and get some serious stuff done. Please read and review! I love hearing from you all and your reviews always make my day. **

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Chapter 16

Carol woke with a start. It was darker in the room… it must be nighttime now. She had fallen asleep on the floor, but something had woken her. She sat up, listening in the darkness.

She heard the trampling of feet, a slow and stilted gait, but too steady to be just one. And then the moans. There was a bang against one of the walls as a walker must have bumped into the building.

She wondered how many walkers there might be. She heard the movement as some passed by the outer walls, but she felt a chill lick up her spine as she realized that they might not all pass. She startled as there came another bang. And then another. She heard the scratch of fingernails across wood.

She looked toward the door to the room that Shane had closed hours ago when it had still been day. She saw it quiver in the frame as something pushed or pulled against it. She could see the sliver of moonlight coming through the side of the door.

And she knew she was in trouble.

Carol stood up, her whole body on alert. She grabbed for the bindings that tethered her to the floor, and followed them down with her hands, reaching the bottom, pulling at where it was tied to the upright ring in the floor. It was no use. She wasn't getting that ring to move no matter how hard she pulled. She tried stretching out the space between her wrists, writhing, pulling at the ropes that bound her. There had to be a way out… she wrenched her wrist again to no avail, grunting as she did it.

The moan in response to her grunt made her stop. She looked to the door again, saw it rattle. And then there was a bang to the other side of the building. And then another.

There was more than one.

They'd surround her in moments. Once the others realized that there was something inside… they'd all come, they'd all be there… and they'd get in.

"No." She said the word aloud without thinking, softly, under her breath. It felt good to say; she repeated it, "no."

She sank to her knees, overwhelmed with the tightness in her chest. She might cry.

"No."

She wasn't going to cry. Crying wasn't going to help. Blubbering would just egg the walkers on. It wouldn't delay the inevitable. The door rattled, the banging continued on all sides of her. She moved her hands to the ring on the floor, grasped it in her fingers for a moment, weighing her options.

"This is going to hurt," she said the words out loud. She needed to hear someone say it, even if that someone was only her.

She tightened her mouth into a thin line, steeling herself. Then she raised her hands up, letting the cold, metal ring slip through her fingers, before smashing her bound hands down onto the unyielding metal; bashing her left hand right into the ring, ricocheting off and holding the momentum as her hand hit the floor with a sickening crunch.

She had to break her hand… it was the only way out. It was the only way to get free. Tethered to the floor when they broke into the building gave her no chance. But if she could be free, if she could be coiled in the corner, ready for action, ready to spring as soon as the first wall went down… well, then she'd have a chance.

A small sound elicited from the back of her throat as she smashed her left hand back down into the ring and into the floor again. She felt something snap in her hand, but it wasn't enough. She twisted her wrists as she did it again, grunting with the force as she slammed her hand into the ground again… once, twice, three times.

It was the fifth time that did it. It was the fifth time that made her whole left wrist and hand go numb. She twisted, ignoring the tingly numbness that told her that at least she still had fingers, even if she couldn't move them, and then she was pulling her mangled left hand through the bindings, pulling it free, panting with the effort, feeling the rope fall loosely around her right wrist. She swallowed thickly and put her face down to her right wrist, using her teeth to grab the rope and pull it over and down her right hand, letting it fall to the floor silently.

She was free.

She heard the bang and rattle on the door and the succumbing of the boards as one of them splintered. The sliver of moonlight became a whole panel, and she could see the face of one of the intruders, the teeth clacking in the silvery light as hands grabbed at the splintered wood and pulled.

* * *

Daryl drove his fist into Shane's face again. His fist was bloody and torn, matching Shane's face.

"Aren't you worried bout your buddies out there?," Shane sneered through pink teeth.

Daryl could hear the gunshots, the engines, as the others tried to drive the walkers in another direction, tried to gain control of the farm again. He glanced up from Shane and through the window. It was a battle they were fast losing.

"Tell me where she is," Daryl growled, grabbing his knife from his back pocket.

"Daryl!," Lori exclaimed loudly from the hallway as the door to the farmhouse swung open. "We need you! Rick… Hershel… there's too many…"

Daryl looked at the self-satisfied smirk on Shane's face, then the fearful one on Lori's.

"Fuck," he huffed, he pointed his knife in the direction of Shane before growling, "this ain't finished." Then he looked pointedly at Lori, "you watch 'im… don't let his lyin' ass out of yer sight."

He didn't wait for her response, he was out the door, crossbow in hand and heading toward where Rick and Hershel stood just off the porch, gunshots thundering, drawing more walkers in as the hills surrounding the farm looked like they were moving, the waves of walkers making the ground look like it was crawling in the darkness of the night.

_There's too many…_

* * *

Shane's head was down, his eyes on the wood floor beneath his knees, his hands tied behind his back. They'd dragged him in here once they'd seen the herd, once they'd known they had to move. They'd cuffed him, left Daryl to deal with him while the others tried to buy some time.

_I'll give the redneck nothing_, Shane thought. But Daryl was gone… out the door with a bang and Shane was alone, alone with Lori.

"Please, Shane…," Lori said, her voice shaken.

Slowly, Shane pulled his head up, shifting his focus to the woman that he couldn't remember not needing, not craving, and he met her eyes. The woman that didn't want him. The woman that wouldn't be his.

"Where's Carol?," she said.

His face was ripped apart from Daryl's blows, blood streamed from his nose, down his lips, staining his teeth, dripping in drops off his squared jaw. His eyes were calm as they stared into Lori's.

"Is that what you care about…," he said softly.

"We've gotta go," Lori said, "there's too many… we can't… Shane, we can't stay here. We need to know where she is… we have to get her so we can go."

"We…," Shane said. He licked his lips, tasting the salty, metallic blood. "We…," he repeated.

"It's your baby," Lori said then, crouching down so they were eye level. "I know it is… I know it's yours. I know you always wanted a baby… if you… if you tell me where she is… if you tell me, then I can tell Daryl, and then we can go."

"We," Shane repeated again, furrowing his brow as he looked at her. He saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"You and me," she said, "_we_ can go."

And he knew what she was offering…

"She's in an old chicken coop, next farm over to the east, little yellow building, taller than you'd expect."

Shane hung his head as Lori scrambled towards the door to tell the others, a smile on his face as he saw her pocket the key ring that was strung next to the door – the key to Rick's cuffs that bound Shane's hands behind his back.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N – Well, after like months and months of radio silence, I figured I'd ring out the year with an update. :) Hope you like! **

**Happy New Year everybody! **

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Chapter 17

The only chance she had was the element of surprise. The only chance she had was to rush at them in the hopes that she could break through. Break free.

"God dammit, Shane…" she said softly to herself, watching as the door started to give way beneath the tenacity of the walkers. She clutched her injured left hand in her right, gingerly, feeling the throbs of pain as the numbness faded.

She thought of Sophia. How her daughter must have felt alone in the woods. How long had she lasted? It couldn't have been long… had she even had a day? Had she even had a day before she'd been bitten? How long had it taken for her sweet little girl to turn… to become one of _them_? Had she been scared? Knowing she was dying… knowing that she'd never see her mom again.

Carol remembered Sophia's smile then. The sleepy grin she got every morning, even after the walkers started, even after the chaos and terror of the world they lived in hit. That sleepy innocent smile.

She imagined that if Sophia had lived… she'd have developed a crush on Carl. They'd have had each other. He'd have grown up into the kind of man who would keep her daughter safe. He probably still will grow up to be that man. But Sophia won't. Sophia won't grow up. She doesn't need protecting anymore.

There was a crack and the splintering of wood, and Carol widened her stance, readied herself to run.

She thought of Daryl. She'd only just admitted to herself that she loved him. That she needed him. And not as a friend, but as so much more. She could imagine a life with him. Maybe the life wouldn't be long, maybe it would. Who could know? But it would be a life. A life with Daryl. The length of it wouldn't matter, because she'd have had him, because they'd have had each other.

Was he safe? Were the walkers everywhere? Had they swarmed Hershel's farm? She had no idea how far away she was. She had no idea if the walkers were an isolated event, just surrounding her, or if they were everywhere. A herd. They could be everywhere.

She shook the thought from her mind. Daryl would be fine. He was Daryl.

And she… she was going to try like she'd never tried before. She was going to get out of here… and she was going to find him.

She sprang forward towards the swarm as the wood fell, as the shed wobbled with the force of the walkers surrounding it. She felt the hands clutching her, jerked herself free, ducked her head and used all her force to break through. To break free.

* * *

Daryl ran, his legs aching as he sprinted up the hill toward the nearest farmhouse. Toward the little yellow building that he'd walked past so many times in his search for Sophia, toward the hell that Carol was trapped in.

The walkers were everywhere. Rick or Carl had set fire to the barn as a distraction… something to draw the walkers towards it and away from the others. Something to give Daryl the time to run, the time to get to Carol, to save her. He felt a hand clutch at his shirt and he jerked forward as a shot rang out. He glanced backwards as the walker's body fell to his side to see Andrea not far behind.

"I've got your back," she hollered.

There was a burst of gunfire behind him back at the farmhouse and the sound of Rick shouting. Daryl jammed his knife into the head of a walker beside him and glanced back to see what was going on.

"Shane! No! Lori!", Rick screamed.

Shane had Lori pulled flush against him, a knife held to her throat and he was backing up away from where Rick was coming undone, half carrying and half dragging Lori, heading towards the closest empty vehicle.

"Daryl, just go," Andrea hissed.

Daryl gritted his teeth and frowned. He watched Rick run his hand across his head and yell out frantically, "I'll come after you Shane! You won't get away with this!"

"Hell….," Daryl muttered. He cut a glance at Andrea with a glare. "I… can't. Come on." His voice was gruff and he moved forward, back towards Hershel's, away from where he'd been headed, away from any hope of finding Carol before the whole area swarmed full of walkers.

His knife made a sucking sound as it found its mark into the head of another walker, and then another, and then another, as he and Andrea made a swift but silent path towards Shane and Rick in their stand off. Rick's gun was poised to shoot now, aimed at Shane's head.

Daryl could see Shane's eyes gleaming in the moonlight. They were empty, devoid of any empathy, of any caring. They shifted restlessly, moving side to side to watch the walkers as they kept everyone else busy and then shifting to Rick and the gun trained on him.

"Stop it, Shane… stop it… I said... I said I'd go… you don't… you don't have to do this," Lori rambled, sobbing, a thin ribbon of red streaming down her neck where the point of the knife had jabbed into her skin.

"Of course I have to do this," Shane snarled, his eyes locked on Rick, "he's a threat to you, Lori, he's a threat to all of us. And I'm gonna end it. I'm gonna end **him**."

"I'll shoot you, Shane. I swear...," Rick growled.

"Shut up, Rick!," Shane screamed, "Shoot me? Go ahead. You'll put a bullet in your wife in the process. So do it… do it, you fucking coward… do it!"

Shane's voice was wild, his vacant eyes still locked on Rick, and he didn't see the rush of movement that was Daryl as Daryl ran headlong straight for him. Daryl threw his whole body into Shane, knocking Lori out of the way and tumbling down to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and fury as Shane latched on to him.

Daryl swung and connected, his fist ramming into Shane's already broken nose, but Shane shifted his weight, rolling him over, and straddling Daryl's body, slamming Daryl's head into the ground. Shane's hands gripped Daryl's neck, squeezing, choking… Daryl struggled, wiggling, his hands grappling for some kind of grip, for some way to break the hold. He tried to get to his gun, usually stuck into the front of his pants, but it was gone. It had fallen out in his headlong rush to surprise Shane.

He twisted his head slightly to see Rick trying to get to them, fending off walkers as they swarmed. Lori was unconscious on the ground; Andrea at her side, trying to rouse her, stabbing walkers as they reached them. The walking dead were everywhere. The others were nowhere to be seen but from the sounds of gunshots ringing in the air, they were clearly somewhere on the grounds battling their way out of the herd.

Daryl gurgled, felt the connection of his fist into Shane's side but to no avail. The world was starting to darken; to dim… he could feel himself slipping out of consciousness.

BANG! The sound of a lone gunshot to his side, right beside him, and the tightness of Shane's grip at his throat let go like the snapping of a taut rubberband. Shane slumped, his body coming down hard on Daryl – deadweight. He grunted and pushed up, roared as he struggled and finally shoved Shane's carcass off of him. Daryl's eyes searched for and fell on his savior…

Carol.

Her chest was heaving, her face and her body grimy and dirt covered. His own gun gripped in her right hand.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N – Hello amazing, wonderful readers! So I didn't realize that this chapter would be the final chapter of The Benefits until after I started writing it. But as I was writing, it became clear to me that THIS was my final chapter, that this was the perfect way to wrap things up. You might disagree, but I'm hoping I did it justice. I'm sorry to see this story end, but rest assured, I still have two open WIPs that I plan to finish up soon (hopefully with more diligence from here on out) and then I'll be off and writing new stuff based on the endless amounts of material and inspiration provided by Season 3. **

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Chapter 18

Carol stood on the hilltop that overlooked the vast land stretched out in front of her. Her eyes were closed, her head churning with thoughts – worries and sadness, happiness and fear, memories and hopes. She sighed and then heard the soft footsteps as he approached. Her lips curved into a smile but she didn't open her eyes. She imagined him in her head, the tips of his overgrown brown hair clinging to his face from the midday Georgia heat, his eyes narrowed as they always were when he watched her, his lips spread into just the slightest of smirks. She felt his hand intertwine with hers and knew that he was standing beside her now.

She opened her eyes and saw the luscious green of the field at the bottom of the hill, the field that stretched forth towards a hulking, ominous building that stood in the distance. They were home, she realized. It wouldn't have been the place she'd have picked. It paled in comparison to the homey comfort that had been Hershel's farm, but it stood strong in its fortitude in a way that screamed "safe".

She watched a few aimless walkers meander their way through the grass down below, completely unaware of the two people watching from above, completely unaware that within an hour they'd all be gone and her group would have dispatched them.

When Daryl had told her it was a prison that he and Rick had found, a prison that they could bunker down in, really make a life in; she'd been so unsure, but staring down at it now, it almost seemed beautiful, it almost seemed poetic. This world they lived in was more a prison than this place ever would be. She didn't know what waited inside. She didn't know what would happen in the "clean-up" of the area. She felt strong though, capable and sure after a lifetime of feeling unsure. She knew now that she could worry and fret and not let those feelings consume her. She knew now that she could believe in a life worth living even after all that she'd lost.

And she knew she loved Daryl Dixon more than any other man in her whole life.

She turned her head to look at him eyeing her just like she'd pictured in her head. The wind ruffled his hair and she smiled.

"I love you," she said, because they were the only words that mattered.

He gave her a lopsided grin that was more of a smirk and cut his eyes at her with a devilish look.

"Wha' are ya thinkin' up 'ere, woman?" The Daryl Dixon version of I-love-you's. It was more than enough. She knew he loved her. He'd told her, just like she'd told him, countless times in the months before, but she'd come to realize that his love was more quiet and watchful than hers. More closed-in perhaps, but also somehow just as honest. And she was secure in that. She'd started this never imagining needing him as much as she did, loving him as much as she did. Friends with benefits; that's what she'd said, and that's what she'd meant at the time. And he _was_ her friend – he was the closest confidante she'd ever had, the person who invaded her thoughts from the time she woke to the time she bedded down. But he was more than that too, and it was the more of it that she'd never have expected back at the beginning. The beginning… that fateful campfire back at Hershel's when beer and bourbon had bolstered her into saying something she'd never even thought possible, bolstered her into being ballsier than she'd ever been.

Carol shrugged her shoulders slightly. It had been three months since they'd lost the farm, since the walker herd, since Shane's craziness, since the group had lost everything they'd had except one another – minus one, of course. She worried sometimes if Rick and Lori thought poorly of her for Shane's death. It was a silly thing to worry about, she knew. But it was hard not to worry. Despite the tumultuous and untoward nature of Lori and Shane's once-coupling, she knew that Lori had loved him. And despite the fact that Shane had in more ways than one betrayed Rick, she knew that Rick had loved the man as well – maybe not the Shane he'd become, but the Shane he was. The partner. The friend.

She smiled wistfully at Daryl then, thinking of the Shane that was. He'd been a decent man once – the man who took care of the group before Rick, the man who tried to stop Ed once, the man who cleaned her up after she scratched and ripped her hands and arms pulling at the Cherokee Roses. He was never as good a man as Daryl is though, and Shane would have hated knowing that. She suspected he knew though… it was the reason for taking her. He'd been mad at losing Lori for sure; wanted revenge perhaps; to make Lori jealous, of course; female companionship maybe, but taking Carol had been payback for Rick's sudden reliance on Daryl as second in command. Lori had told her once, about a week after, that Shane never could stand to play second fiddle.

She realized Daryl's expression had turned quizzical, watching her sort out her thoughts.

"What?," she said softly.

"It's like watchin' a mouse on a wheel…," he muttered, shaking his head.

Carol tilted her head and gave him a raised eyebrow look. "You mean a hamster," she said, smiling.

"Ain't never 'ad none-a those fancy things," he muttered, turning away from her, his hand still clenched in hers, pulling her after him as he went, "me and Merle… we 'ad _mice_." He led her away then and they moved silently through the nearby woods until they reached the others.

Rick eyed her cautiously as she and Daryl went to stand with the group. Rick was waiting for her thoughts. They were all waiting for her thoughts. She, Carol Peletier, mattered now. What she had to say about their next move mattered to the group. She'd never thought there would be a time where people would want to hear her opinions, but that time was here, that time was now. The others had all deferred to Rick about the prison. She'd been the only one hesitant on the subject. It'd been Daryl's idea to bring her to the clearing where they'd first seen the massive structure. It'd been Daryl's idea to let her see for herself and make her decision then.

"Okay," she said as the others watched her, "let's go make this place our home."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) HUGS TO YOU ALL!**


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